


Take One, Action!

by Luzzie, Reet



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Actors, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Happy Ending, M/M, Mentions of past abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Stucky Big Bang 2017
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-21
Updated: 2017-08-21
Packaged: 2018-12-18 03:13:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 84,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11865486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luzzie/pseuds/Luzzie, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reet/pseuds/Reet
Summary: Steve Rogers is a famous actor who is about to release a new movie when a violent altercation at Pride Day labels him as a homophobe and threatens to ruin his career.James Barnes is a brilliant, but unknown, actor who is typecast as a pained gay man.To solve both problems with one stroke, Rogers’ and Barnes’ agents come up with a beneficial-for-all agreement: a fake relationship.Steve hates it until he realizes James is the hottest guy he ever crossed paths with, and nowa) he just doesn’t want to stop fake-cuddling that jerkb) all the fake-touches are becoming too real to be just actingc) all the fake-kisses are tasting too real to be healthy.





	1. TAKE ONE

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Click Here to Read Full Article](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4919347) by [thecommodore_squid (orphan_account)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/thecommodore_squid). 



> This story was written to the Stucky Big Bang 2017!
> 
> A huge thank to our betas, [TetrodotoxinB](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TetrodotoxinB/pseuds/TetrodotoxinB) and [losther0es](https://archiveofourown.org/users/losther0es), who spent many hours reading and editing, making suggestions and helping us learn more about the US culture. Thank you for you patience and encouraging us when we thought we would give up. It was great to work with you both, and, to me, the most important thing is that I learned many new things.
> 
> The banner was made by me, Reet.

#  ****

 

 **Saturday, June 6** ** th ** **, 2015**

 

The annual Gay Pride parade was the only yearly event that Steve always made a point to attend, although going in public in New York was getting harder and harder to do without being noticed.

Okay, it wasn’t like he was afraid to admit his sexuality. The real problem was that being an actor at the peak of his career was like playing Russian roulette with the media, except that the gun was always fully loaded and any public appearance was like shooting yourself in the forehead. The media did its job very well.

For example, last week Steve had seen a customer being rude to a waitress and he’d tried to stop it, only to be in the headlines and accused of throwing a glass at the customer himself. It had been, impressively, scandal after scandal, after scandal.

As a result, his agent had asked, very specifically, for Steve to try his best to reduce his public appearances, but the fact that the media was heavily covering the parade this year was a barrier in terms of showing support for the community. Besides, he really wasn’t one to follow rules when the rules in question went against what he believed.

Steve wasn’t Superman, he wasn’t able to successfully disguise himself with a pair of sunglasses and a cap. Actually, he looked kind of ridiculous with all of that stuff, but it was worth it, considering how the atmosphere of the Pride Day made him feel, the thrilling feeling of shared happiness, gratification and pridefulness.

Once Steve made it to the parade with a couple of friends, the music drumming from the speakers was a mixture of techno and pop that made all of the people grind their bodies together, sweating and singing, drinking and kissing, and Steve was enjoying the atmosphere as well. He was drinking beer and occasionally dancing with random guys that came over to him. He was sure that he’d never see them again because it’s too risky to have sex with random people when your face was on every movie screen around the globe. Besides, Steve was not the kind of one-night-stand guy — he liked being romantically involved with someone. In the meantime, Peggy and Angie — Steve’s ex-girlfriend, who came out as lesbian, and her new girlfriend — had been dancing together, too distracted by one another to pay any attention to Steve.

Steve had to to go to the bathroom and by the time he returned, Peggy and Angie were gone. Everything looked the same, besides the amount of people passing by who were following the parade. It couldn’t be possible that Steve was lost, because they were there not five minutes ago. He wasn’t that drunk and his tolerance for alcohol was usually pretty good.

The sound of an argument caught Steve’s attention, and he saw two wasted guys, who didn’t look like they belonged in the middle of the Pride Parade, rudely grabbing Peggy’s and Angie’s arms. Steve moved before he could even think.

“What the fuck is going on here?” he yelled, pushing them away from Angie and Peggy.  

“Are you crazy, man?” the first man, bald and bearded, shouted.

“This isn’t your fucking business!” The second one, who was dressed in a ridiculous plaid shirt, pushed Steve’s shoulders.

“Don’t you have any respect, or are you an idiot?” Steve barked, trying to get himself under control and avoid unnecessary attention. “I’m positive that they didn’t give you permission to touch them.”

“Of course they did!” he said drunkenly. “With short skirts like that, they’re asking for attention, whores.”

“ _Excuse me?_ ” Peggy snapped, crossing her arms.

“Shut up, bitch,” the bald man replied, ignoring her and turning to Steve who, with his clenched fists, was at his limit.

“You’re not gonna talk to her like that again!” Steve threatened, pointing at the guy.

“And what are you gonna do, faggot?” The bald guy lifted his face menacingly.

The plaid shirt’s guy snorted in sarcasm. “ _Pussy_.”

Steve punched the man in the middle of his face, barely noticing the pain in his wrist while he was turning to the second and dodging his attack. The guy tried to punch him, but failed. The bald man’s nose was bleeding, and he grunted, “You fucking asshole.”

The plaid shirt’s guy slammed his fist on Steve right above the eye. Steve tried to back off, but the man pulled him close and kicked his stomach. Then, Steve grabbed him by the neck and hit his head in the man’s chin. The guy fell, and that was when Steve realized the background sound of the women screaming, bringing him back to reality. He was causing a mess, and _shit,_ the police arrived.

 

OK!: _Steve Rogers caught on a fight with two men at Gay Pride_ _Parade_

STAR: _Actor Steve Rogers assaults gay couple_

GOSSIP: _Is Steve Rogers a homophobe? Actor is seen at Gay Pride_ _Parade brutalizing gay couple_

 

Steve was staring at the concrete ceiling with a bandage on his eyebrow and his wrist in a splint when the cell door opened.

An officer with a mocking face pointed down the hallway, where Steve spotted his lawyer. “You can leave now, pretty boy. Your bail was paid.”

Sam Wilson had the most disappointed expression Steve had ever seen plastered on his face, and Steve knew that wasn’t good because they’d been best friends since their childhood in Brooklyn. That meant he’d grown up next to Steve when his rebel side had been at its peak. Trying to punch bullies and failing, ending at the hospital once in a week — and, still, Sam never came with that face to Steve.

“You’ve got to be kidding,” Sam said, waiting for Steve to get out of the cell, then handling him a pair of sunglasses and a plastic bag with his stuff.

“What happened?” Steve asked.

“Oh, you don’t wanna know what happened, trust me.” Sam patted him on the back. “But I’m gonna tell ya anyway. The boys pressed charges on the violence, but Peggy and Angie testified on the physical harassment, so they’re in jail too and they don’t have the same luck as you, and when I say _luck,_ I mean they’re not being accused of assaulting a gay couple at the Gay Pride parade.”

Steve widened his eyes. That was beyond what he expected.

“Fucking media, I hate those bastards,” Steve hissed.

“Yeah, me too. Steve, I know you wouldn’t do that, but the media doesn’t, and your image, bro…” Sam shook his head. “You have a press conference tour about your new movie in a few weeks and if we don’t solve this shit right now, your career is over.”

“Don’t say a thing.” Steve rolled his eyes. “How are the girls?”

“They’re fine. Peggy said Angie was crying when you were arrested, but they’re home now. You only have to worry about two things at this fine moment.”

“What?”

Sam pointed at the police department hallway, where an amount of reporters and photographers were being contained by some officers, just waiting for him to leave.

“That, and the fact that Fury is gonna eat you alive.”

“Fucking hell” Steve cursed. “I forgot about him.”

“Well, not anymore.”

After that, it was like a whirlwind for Steve. The flashes started shooting, the reporters were shouting absurd questions, begging for his attention and throwing themselves on his way; Steve was escorted to the black car that was waiting for him, covering his face with both hands, but failing miserably to hide from the cameras.

“Steve, what were you doing at a gay parade?” “What’s your opinion on the LGBT community?” “Is it true that you assaulted a gay couple? What made you do that?” “Do you consider yourself a conservative?”

Sam, along with some security guards, opened the path for Steve and waited for him to get in the car, closing the door after that. Steve was surprised by the scary figure of his agent sitting in front of him.

Nick Fury never had a very friendly face, but right now, it was exceptionally scary. And Nick was _already_ exceedingly frightening, he always wears an eyepatch and never tells where he got it. Steve knew that this was not good news.

“Can you tell me what is going on here?” Fury requested with his guttural and penetrating voice.

Steve explained everything that happened, trying not to take off his own fault on the fight completely, but he discovered that was a terrible idea, because Fury’s face was hardening more and more.

“The media is making you to be a homophobe and people are trying to boycott the pre-sale of _Captain America_ tickets. Do you have any idea on what that’s doing to your image?”

“I’m sorry,” Steve murmured, guilt overtaking him.

“The budget of this movie is on 140 million dollars, Rogers, your career depends on this and you’re losing the public preference dramatically. In times like these minority issues are front and center and you’re on the headlines as a homophobic aggressor, what’s going to happened at the box office, Rogers? “ Fury leaned on the seat, resting his elbows on his knees and interlacing fingers. “The box office is going down and your fame is going to the trash can, that’s what’s going to happen.”

“I’m sorry, Fury,” Steve repeated.

“ _All_ I asked was for you to avoid being the target of tabloid this way, but did your good nature allow you? _No_ , because you’re a rebel, that’s what you are, Rogers. I can’t believe we’re going through this, these allegations are extremely serious, how do you expect to solve such things?”

“I don’t know, I can go to the press and-”

“No, Rogers, you can’t. They are going to destroy you with ridiculous questions that are going to make you mad, and _you_ , with that irresponsible way of never thinking before speaking, _are_ gonna screw things up again. Thankfully, I, doing my job as always, created this narrow recovery route. It’s a risky contract, you’re gonna have to do and say things you won’t like much, but you have to focus on the big picture, it will benefit us all.”

“Us all _who?_ ”  

Fury adjusted himself on the seat and took a brown folder next to him, handling to Steve that swears he saw a shade of a smile on his agent’s face.

“You do know who James B. Barnes is, right?” Fury inquired in a low voice.

Steve shook his head. “Should I?”

He flipped through the pages of the file, which was actually a selection of headshots and stills, being surprised at each passing one. James Barnes was overwhelmingly gorgeous and somehow familiar.

“Oh, it’s that actor from that polemic gay drama that came out a few years ago.” Steve arched his eyebrows. He had read somewhere that the sex scenes were not edited and now he was tempted to watch the movie just because of that guy.

“And the last year’s hit action movie” Fury continued. “He was nominated for Best Supporting Actor on Critics Choice. He made some pretty good movies, he’s typecast. Drama, mostly gay drama, is where he shines.”

“He’s good, but a little bit undiscovered.”

“Exactly,” Fury intervened, looking away from the car window. “His agent and I are very close, formally speaking, and we’ve built this... beneficial arrangement, it can be said.” He gestured, entwining his fingers.

“And what does it have to do with my image?”

“The point, Rogers, is that Barnes is a genius when it comes to acting, really talented, but he’s nameless. You, on the other hand, with this gorgeous face of yours, pop up in gossip magazines all the time because of the stupid shit you do. Do you see where I’m going with this?”

“Not really, no.” Steve frowned, not liking where this seemed to be leading.

“Barnes only needs something or someone to make him known, and you just happened to end up in a homophobic scandal with no chance of recovering. You need an alibi and he’s a great gay actor.”

“What, are you asking me to act in a gay movie with him? That’s not a problem for me.”

“Basically.” Fury smiled the way only Fury could smile, macabre and not sincere at all. “Except that this movie is real life and I want you two acting out a fake relationship.”

Steve gasped, straightening in the car seat and staring at Fury in disbelief.

“No!”

“Rogers, this is serious,” Fury pointed out.

“I know it is,” Steve interrupted. “But this is absurd, Fury, do you have any idea how much it would damage my image if it goes wrong?”

“Listen, this is a sensible plan for overcoming a scandal and I will not let my best actor sink alone.” Fury hardened his expression, folding his arms. “Many artists have had mediatic romances.”

“But I’m not that kind of artist!” Steve protested.

“Do I have to remind you again how many lives and how much money is at stake because of a stupid little fight you had in the middle of a gay parade in New York?”

“No, but-”

“So, I guess you understand that Barnes is the only solution to your image” Fury concluded, turning his face back to the window and leaving Steve out of words. “You’re going to spend your time with him, every time you see a camera, you’re going to be the cheesiest couple in New York. You will exchange messages on all social networks and take romantic photos even if I have to hire a photographer to go after you both. You’re going to make people believe this is real and forget that this homophobic assault scandal ever happened. I want it to work, Rogers, are we clear?”

The car had already parked in front of Steve’s building, but he had no intention of leaving. He could not accept  the proposal Fury was making. What was the alternative though? Losing his career? Steve hated lies, hated not being true to himself; on the other hand, the career was all he had struggled to achieve since his mother’s early death. It was not just his character that was at stake.

“We are.”

“Fine.” Fury handed a scrap of scrawled paper to Steve. “Meet me at my office Saturday night. Let’s settle the last issues of the contract.” Steve got out of the car a little annoyed. “And try not to be caught by any other tabloid photographers by then.”

 

METROPOLIS: _Think he deserved it? Steve Rogers is seen leaving_ _police station with bruises on his face and arm. Click here to see i_ _mage._

TRENDING TOPICS: _#StopSteveRogers #LoveTrumpsHate_ _#BoycottCaptainAmerica_

 

 **Tuesday, June 9** ** th ** **, 2015**

 

“I can’t even look at my twitter account right now” Steve mumbled to the phone, sighing wearily.

“Yeah, probably not a good idea,” he heard Peggy’s voice respond casually. “It’s a mess on the whole internet. That’s not-”

“You’re nothing like that, Stevie,” Angie cut in, probably picking up Peggy’s phone. “And if you want, you can stay here with the three of us to have ice cream and watch shows until you get better.”

“Thank you, Angie, but Fury told me not to leave the house,” Steve replied, smiling a little at her kindness. “Although I do have a bunch of things to watch.”

“Oh, are you going to watch that new series from Netflix with that time-travel thematic that has a super hot actor from that other movie that I can’t remember the name of?”

“Actually,” Steve stared at his fingers as he searched for a way to admit it out loud, “I’m doing some research on the guy of the proposal Fury made.” He bit his lower lip and saw through the glass of the window a grimace of uncertainty emerge in his face.

“My God, Stevie, I cannot believe you’re going to accept that!” Steve had to push the phone away from his ear because of Angie’s high-pitched voice. “That’s so not your style!”

“I know, I didn’t think it was either, but Fury gave me no other choice.”

“I mean, it’s obviously not going to work.” Angie paused as Steve could hear Peggy calling her name in a menacing tone. “You’re too much sensitive for that, it’s not like it’s just another role to play.”

“What do you mean?” Steve frowned.

“You get attached to people more often than not.”

Steve began to stammer in an attempt to respond, staring blankly at the sink full of plates and tableware — he was not the clean and organized type. “That’s not true!”

There was a pause when the phone seemed to have been taken from Angie’s hand. “Yeah, it is, Steve,” Peggy replied. “But that’s not the biggest problem here. It’s a lie. It’s not you, you hate lies, it goes against your whole nature.”

“But if I don’t, I could lose my career,” Steve countered, clenching his hand. “And you know my career matters only because of _her_.”

“I do not think your mother would want you to lie to the whole world just get rid of a scandal. She would want you to tell the truth, because your word is the only thing you have.”

That touched Steve deeper than he wanted. Peggy hadn’t got to know Sarah Rogers before she died, but Peggy had a tremendous sense of empathy. Even after ending the relationship with him, she still looked after him like a brother.

“But without the sweat and the money she invested, I wouldn’t be here, so I guess I owe it to her. Keep what she cultivated.”

“It’s your choice,” it was very likely that Peggy was rolling her eyes now, “Angie and I already made our bets.”

“About what?”

“Your new boyfriend, of course!” Angie’s high-pitched voice took control of the phone again. “I bet you’ll end up liking him and messing up the whole contract, but my baby here thinks you’re going to end the contract because of all the pressure and lies.”

“Why am I going to end up breaking the contract in both ways?”

“We know you will,” Angie decreed. “Changing the subject…” Steve rolled his eyes. “He is hot?”

His attention shifted to the laptop on the other kitchen counter, with several pages opened in searches of James B. Barnes. Steve felt his face warm up.

“He- ugh...” Steve took a deep breath before continuing. “A _lot._ ”

 

CELEBS COLUMN: _“Rogers is a great actor, but I don’t think_ _homophobes deserve respect and recognition. I support_ _#BoycottCaptainAmerica.” Wanda Maximoff, actress of “X-Men”_ _and LGBT activist, from her Twitter account._

 

 **Saturday, June 13** ** th ** **, 2015**

 

Several times in the past week Steve had wondered why he had hired Fury as an agent in the first place.

Why not a regular agent like any other actor in Hollywood? Why did he have to be a macabre guy wearing an eyepatch known for his unconventional methods of dealing with crises? Why did they have to take the elevator from the parking garage to the office’s floor, entirely bypassing the lobby and hiding from the cameras?

Of course the answer was that Nick Fury was the best of the best. He was able to give three Academy Awards to Bruce Banner, a hot-tempered guy who got into fights with any director — he usually turned almost green with rage — and was logged several times for violence.

Still, did Steve really need such a ridiculous contract?

“So, when are they coming?” Steve inquired, removing his coat and taking a seat on the couch.

“At any moment,” Fury replied calmly.

When Steve’s indignation over Fury’s whole proposal subsided, Steve found himself so ridiculously interested in learning more about his future fake-boyfriend, that he spent the last few days researching about Barnes and any available information. He was surprised to find that it didn’t have much about the actor on the internet.

Barnes lived his entire life in Brooklyn, although he was from Indiana. It was saying that he graduated at New York University, and according to Steve’s math, there was almost no information about Barnes for a period, except that he had started acting, though no paper was listed during that time.

Steve, ever curious, watched all the movies and guest appearances on TV shows he didn’t even know plot of, evaluating Barnes’ enviable acting skills. Okay, the guy was good. So, his job would be giving fame to a guy who acted better than him? It was a blow to his ego.

He was brilliant, all the directors praised his commitment to the roles. He had a wonderful body language and did something with his eyes that let you see pain or anger or whatever emotion, and that attached you to the character so much that Steve kind of built a mix of envy and fascination about Barnes, which eventually resulted in frustration when fifteen minutes passed and no actor nor agent showed up.

Steve was swinging his legs, checking his phone, crossing and uncrossing his arms with impatience like a child forced to wait in line for the dentist. After what seemed an eternity, there was a light knock on the door. The man who opened the door was wearing a suit and looked to be in his fifties. He smiled familiarly at Fury, who rose to greet him. Steve blinked in surprise as he had almost never seen Fury act so fond of anyone. Although Fury himself was intimidating, the other man was even more so.

“Pierce, it’s good to see you!” greeted Fury, and Steve resisted to his impulse telling him to get up and shake the man’s hand. Somehow Pierce’s expression made him feel a little angry. “I apologize for the time, but, you know, this agreement has certain needs.”

“So, you’re the rebel the media is talking about,” the man commented. Steve locked his jaw, crossing his arms in a more defiant way. “I’m Pierce. Alexander Pierce. And this is my client James,” he said, gesturing behind himself.

The action caught Steve’s attention, who immediately felt a clenching sensation inside his chest, stealing the air out of his lungs. His eyes settled on the man standing there in silence.

James Barnes was a lot more handsome than he expected. His eyes had an intense shade of blue, mouth pressed into an uncomfortable smile and his square jaw made the tension even more evident. His hair was longer than in the previous films, tied back messily. Steve found that mix the perfect recipe for breathlessness.

Steve tried to keep his newly discovered crisis under control after meeting the hottest human being he ever crossed paths with in his entire life, nodding at Barnes, who barely tilted his chin in response. That was another stab to the ego.

“Please, sit down, we have much to talk about,” Fury invited, gesturing to the couch in front of them. Steve ran his fingers through his hair in an attempt to look tidy, suddenly much more aware of what he was doing, his body getting quite hot with anxiety and excitement.

Pierce’s fingers folded on top of his crossed legs. “Are we all on board with the arrangement?”

“I don’t think there’s anything in our way,” Fury replied as he pulled a brown envelope from inside his coat and handled it to Pierce. “In this envelope is the contract that we agreed on.”

“Does it state that upon breach of contract the violator will owe the other party 15% of their projected profit for the upcoming year?”

“Yes.”

“And the duration of the contract?”

“One year. It’s everything that has already been agreed upon.”

Steve felt as useless as a child when parents decide what to eat without asking what they want. He leaned back and crossed his arms, drawing Fury and Pierce’s attention, and a slightly glance from Barnes.

“With this contract are we free to date other people?” Steve asked. Okay, he was not really thinking about dating other people, but if... well, it was just a matter of information.

“What you do or don’t is none of my business, as long as it does not spoil the public image of my client, or it will be considered a breach of contract,” Pierce replied in a rough tone of voice. “Now, Fury, let’s get down to business. How can you assure me that Rogers is capable of secure my client’s popularity as well as a good image towards the media?”

“Steve isn’t new in this field, Pierce. He knows his way around with the press. But I’m afraid we might have to invest more than the basics.” Fury tilted his head.

“What are you referring to?” Pierce asked.

“Perhaps this whole story of a relationship after the scandal may seem very sudden to the media.” Fury gestured, frowning. “I’m just thinking about my client here. We have to show that this was already on the track, and for that we would need evidence, if you understand me.”

“We need to show that this affair is nothing new.”

“Precisely,” Fury agreed. “I know this guy who is great at digital manipulation and keeps his mouth shut for the certain price. He can edit some photos and make it look like Barnes and Rogers have been together in secret for some time, throw those pictures on the net and let the media draw their own conclusion.”

“I think it’s a great idea.”

“And we’ll have to keep an eye on social networks as well. I can hire an assessor to monitor our clients’ networks and from time to time, ‘accidentally’ leak intimate messages, which will not spoil the image of neither of them, of course.”

“It will have to be done off the books,” Pierce stated, putting his chin in his hands; Fury shook his head in agreement. “So, when Rogers’ coming out?”

Fury exchanged glances with Steve.

“When is my next public appearance scheduled?” Steve asked.

“Stark with the Stars’ interview on HBO.”

“Fine by me.” Steve uncrossed his arms and straightened in his spot. He and Tony were friends and Fury had scheduled this interview just to correct the latest scandals.

“Wait,” Barnes interjected, breaking the silence that enveloped him for the first time. His voice was much husky and gravelly than in his performances. “You’re gay, right?”

The hairs on Steve’s body bristled as Barnes directed the question to him. “Actually, I’m bisexual.”

“And do you intend to make it public?”

Steve hesitated. “It’s not like I have another choice.”

Barnes threw his body back in his spot, his expression determined. “I won’t do this.”

Pierce turned impressively calm, judging by the way he spoke next.

“Sure you will,” he stated, without blinking, his face hard as stone. “Or did you already forgot the dump where I picked you from?” Pierce arched his eyebrows. “Do you want a moment to think about it? There’s a corner right over there.”

Barnes tensed up instantly, a shade of something passing through his eyes. He stood up from the couch. “I need fresh air,” he announced and he left the room.

Suddenly, the air in the room was much heavier than Steve could deal with, even Fury had never been so cruel, but Pierce started talking again as if nothing had happened.

Barnes arrived some minutes later relatively calmer, and the subject of the contract was resumed.

“So, Fury, Barnes is training for the next movie he was cast in, I need to know if Rogers’ house has enough space.”

“Wait, what?” Steve interrupted. “Why would he train at my home?”

“We agreed that you will live together for the duration of the contract,” Pierce reinforced.

 _Did we?_ , Steve wanted to shout.

“Nobody told me that,” Steve clarified.

“Oh, I thought I had mentioned it,” Fury corrected, turning his gaze from Pierce to Steve, and back to the other agent. “Well, now you know.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Steve saw Barnes sink into the couch as if he were being punished.

So, that was it? Your entire freedom being taken in the blink of an eye, along with privacy and patience. Not to mention that Barnes did not seem comfortable at all with that, it was as if he barely knew Steve and already hated him right away. Steve had done nothing to make it happen, like, he knows he’s not the nicest guy in the world to live with, especially with a first impression like that, but was the idea of a fake relationship with him that terrible?


	2. TAKE TWO

**Sunday, June 14th, 2015**

 

“Arghhh!” was the only sound Steve managed to let escape his throat after hearing the annoying sound of his doorbell being pushed for the zillionth time. He pulled himself from his bed and stumbled down the stairs towards the door. “ _Shit._ I’m coming!”

It must be Dorothy, the little blonde and toothless seven-year-old from the neighborhood. Sure, a kid in Girl Scouts’ uniform selling mint chocolate chips cookies was cute and all, but definitely not at freaking seven in the morning on a fucking Sunday.

“Listen, sweetie, I told you last time that Uncle Steve doesn’t like very much being woken up before nin-” Steve’s words were sharply cut by the two rigid expressions facing him on the other side of the door. Steve rested his body on the doorstep, trying to find the balance he seemed to have lost as soon as he opened the door.

 _Definitely_ not _a sweet toothless little girl._

“Hello, Mr. Rogers. By the rather comical face you just made, I’m guessing Mr. Fury didn’t warn you about the conditions and urgency regarding your arrangements from last night” an attractive redhead informed him as soon as he managed to readjust himself from the previous moment.

Steve couldn’t quite force himself to concentrate on her words when he was consumed by the sudden self-consciousness of being dressed only in his boxers and an old t-shirt with the caption “CAPTAIN AMERICA RULES, IRON MAN’S FOR FOOLS”.

“Unless you don’t have time to talk about it before nine… _uncle_.” She completed with such a sarcastic smirk Steve’s cheeks flushed right away, the ginger woman making it clear she was no one to mess with.

“Yeah, he forgot to mention,” he mumbled, trying to sound unaffected and failing miserably.

Steve heard a noise of scorn and impatience coming from behind the woman. It made him notice the handsome young man leaning against the wall on the other side of the small hall that preceded the entrance of his apartment.

And there’s his lovely _boyfriend_.

Steve must have been awkwardly lost in his own thoughts, because the redhead cleared her throat, catching his attention. “Nice to meet you, sir, I’m Natasha Romanoff,” she said, offering her hand for him to shake, a tight professional content to the action.

“Nice to meet you too, Natasha,” Steve answered, accepting her hand and giving her one of his best seductive smiles.

“ _Romanoff_ ,” she corrected before Steve even had the chance to close his mouth.

Steve tried to tell himself that he wasn’t going to bother by the soft chuckle he heard as he motioned for them to enter the room. Barnes was doing a really good job so far at testing his self-control.

“I’m the relationship adviser appointed for your specific case, and I’m here to help you build a common agenda. I will also be available to redress any possible doubts you may have, as well as to maintain a close watch to make sure everything goes as planned.” Ms. Romanoff confirmed Steve’s suspicions as soon as they were inside the sophisticated loft. “As you gentlemen may already know, your contract has some clauses, such as duties and rights, ‘Do’s and Don’ts’, etc., and I am here to guide you through it.”

Before any of the men in the room could make any comment, Ms. Romanoff left them both on their spot near the door and started to analyze Steve’s home. She was taking notes every so often, which made Steve cringe a little, not used to people criticizing his stuff — or anything, for that matter —  and very aware of the fact that his maid hadn’t visited in days.

He wouldn’t admit to himself, but he was feeling a little intimidated by the two gorgeous people in his apartment.

“Mr. Rogers,” Romanoff started, emerging from the stairs of the loft, “I noticed that there’s a room upstairs, aside from the master bedroom, but it’s a bit of a mess. Are you intending to buy a bigger bed for the purpose of sharing?”

“I, hm, it won’t be necessary. The other room just hasn’t been set up as a guest room.” _Although sleeping next to that body wouldn’t be a bad idea,_ Steve thought. “But I’ll get everything taken care of right away.”

“Good.” Romanoff nodded, writing something down on her notepad. “Now, may we sit? We need to discuss your contract and your actions as a couple and it won’t take just two or three minutes.”

“Oh, of course!” Steve blushed, embarrassed that he didn’t offered a seat to his visitors. Sarah wouldn’t be pleased. “Would you like something to eat or drink?” And _then_ he remembered that he couldn’t make coffee because his cooking skills sucked, and he always had breakfast at the bakery in the corner of the street. “Maybe some water?”

“No, thank you,” Romanoff answered him politely, thankfully not noticing his despair. Barnes didn’t even blink in his direction.

Steve sat on the couch opposite to the one Barnes and the adviser were, discreetly putting a cushion on his lap to hide his boxers.

“So, as I was saying previously, you’re both expected to strictly follow these instructions,” she continued, handing them each a copy of their contract. “In the section three, you’ll find the list of Do’s and Don’ts, which includes extremely important topics I would like to direct your attention to.”

Steve took a look at the paper and couldn’t help it but widen his eyes at the quantity of things listed. _Shit,_ he thought, what did Fury get him into?

“Yes, the file is long, and you are expected to read it on our own when convenient. Right now, we’re just going to go through some of the most crucial ones. Save your questions until the end.” The adviser took her own copy and started highlighting the top priorities. “To begin with, you both are strictly forbidden to share with any person, besides your agents, the true nature of this relationship.”

 _Whoops,_ Steve thought. _First one down, a million others to go._

“I, as the relationship adviser and the person responsible for your public image, will be needing your emails, passwords, and access to all social medias. I will also need both of your signatures in one document to assure you are legally aware that any kind of romantic gatherings outside the core of this relationship is allowed, if said encounters are discreet and do not put the purpose of this arrangement in any danger of exposure. Any breach of contract would, of course, make the guilty party subject the previously agreed upon penalties. You also agree, by signing this, that the person in question will also have to sign a non-disclosure agreement before initiating any relationship of any kind,” Romanoff informed them.

 _Shit._ It was not that Steve was desperate for getting laid with whoever gets in his path, but he kind of liked being involved with someone. It was natural for him to always be in some kind of romantic situation, even though it didn’t necessarily mean to be dating. Steve liked the thrill of wanting and being wanted, and that contract would ruin the magnetism of flirting for sure. _“Please, sign those lines before we fuck.” Romantic._

“You are expected to attend public events together and to show affection in those environments, as well as to take photos with each other’s relatives and fans to avoid suspicion of any form. I would also like to point out that your image rights are now shared with both your management teams, and as for this moment, to make sure this relationship appears appealing to the public eye to fall in love with is your top priority. In the next page, you’ll find…”

Steve drifted away for a moment. Fake-dating someone was a lot more bureaucratic than he thought. He certainly knew that would be a challenge to live together without previously knowing anything personal from each other, but _that…_

Maybe Peggy was right, after all. It was too much lies, too much pretending. And then a current of electricity ran through his body, remembering him that soon he probably would have to kiss Barnes in public. He couldn’t quite tell if that was good or bad.

“… handling a copy of your keys to Mr. Barnes.” Romanoff blinked lightly afterwards, as if she hadn’t just dictated their future from now on. “Questions?”

Steve, taken aback, simply shook his head. He saw from the corner of his eye that Barnes did the same.

Before she could say anything else, Romanoff’s phone beeped. She checked it, a short smile lighting up on her face. “Gentlemen, I will email you with my personal number for you to contact me whenever you need. Now if you’ll excuse me I have to go but I’ll be back tomorrow for Mr. Barnes’ training.”  She got up and packed some of her files. “Mr. Barnes, could you walk with me to bring your bags upstairs?”

As soon as they left the apartment to collect Barnes’ things, Steve rushed like a mad man to the so called “guest room” which was located across the hall from his room. The term “trash room” would be more appropriate.

He had turned the room into a kind of an office for his drawing hobbies, which he would never admit, even though he felt that he had a fair bit of talent. This kind of skill wasn’t like acting, when you’re supposed to follow a script and you do it well because you’re good. It was something that went through Steve in an inexplicable way, that he could put out any confused feeling and turn it into coherence, and because of that, it was personal.

“How am I supposed to find a bed underneath all this?” Steve murmurs while taking hastily at once as many boxes of his drawings and paintings spread over the bed as possible to his own bedroom.

 _This won’t be so bad,_ Steve tried to convince himself as he cleaned the place as fast as possible. He couldn’t help but think of how gorgeous James Barnes was, and _sure, why wouldn’t he be?_ , but he should focus on not to letting that merely attraction thing affect his part on the contract. _I bet he’ll be easier to live with once we get to know each other._

As he turned to leave the room successfully with the last pair of boxes in his arms, Steve was not fast enough to notice the rigid figure preventing his exit.

He ran full-force into Barnes _,_ which made him drop the packages and their contents scattered all over the floor.

 _Smooth,_ he thought while immediately bending over to pick it up as fast as possible.

Which, apparently, wasn’t fast enough since Barnes just did the same, catching some papers and checking them out before looking right into Steve’s eyes, his expression indecipherable.

“Thanks,” Steve told him, wanting the moment to be over already. He was feeling exposed, and he hated every minute of it. He was Steve Fucking Rogers, he didn’t get disconcerted. He just didn’t.

Barnes just nodded, still vague in his actions.

Steve cleared his throat. In an attempt to lighten up the mood, he said “Welcome home, honey, missed you in bed last night.” Adding a naughty smirk, he felt proud of himself.

“You have pillow marks on your face,” Barnes replied with a dead tone of voice, not a bit affected by his comment. “And there’s a bit of drool on it too,” Barnes added, pointing to the corner of his own lips. Steve could have sworn he saw a fraction of a smile on them for a second.

Right away, Steve remembered why he hated that agreement.

 

METROPOLIS: _Steve Rogers in a relationship? Photoshop or not?_ _See the_ _leaked pictures of Steve Rogers kissing long-haired_ _brunette!_

 

**Saturday, June 20th, 2015**

 

“So, how’s everything going?” asked Peggy, while she and Steve were looking for some movie that both of them haven’t watched at least five times.

“You mean living with the freaky bastard with that eternal-asshole-expression of his?” Steve replied, arching his brows with a disgusted grimace.

“I mean living with your handsome fake-boyfriend that you’re supposed to pretend loving.”

“Oh, everything’s great. Amazing. Lovely, it really is.” Steve shook his head, getting tired of being sarcastic very fast. He took a deep breath. “Sometimes I think that I’d like to fuck him hard, but most of the time I’d just throw him off a cliff without thinking twice.”

Peggy’s smile was certainly sarcastic too.

“Well, that seems like a breakthrough.”

“Yeah, when he’s quiet, which is nearly always, he can be hot _and_ unbearable. It’s driving me crazy.”

Steve had already stated that he hated being woken up before nine, and that, unfortunately, was happening every fucking day since Barnes started living with him.

Steve discovered that Barnes had a habit of waking up at half past five; running a few blocks to meet his personal trainer at his house; and then meeting Mrs. Romanoff, who was apparently also his assistant, after that. When Steve collected the courage to step out of bed, Barnes was already heading to the shower, his skin shining with sweat.

He also noticed that Barnes took too long showering, but the view of him coming out wet with blushed cheeks and a towel around his shoulders was simply breathtaking, so he didn’t plan on complaining anytime soon.

After that, Barnes would disappear for the rest of the day and return late at night, going straight to his room. So, really, it didn’t afford them much chance for conversation.

The only thing Steve couldn’t stop noticing was that every day that passed, the shadows beneath Barnes’ eyes grew a little bit. He always seemed tired, and that may be related to the indistinguishable muffled sounds during the night. Steve didn’t have the courage to ask what was happening, because at that point Barnes couldn’t even say a hello to him.

So, after a few days of hell, Romanoff came up with the next-to-be leaked pictures edited by some Photoshop whiz, Peter Parker, and the photos were so fucking convincing that Steve had to reassure himself that moment never happened.

The picture was blurred, just like an amateur photographer, but the tall blond guy on his back looked just like him. He was kissing some brown long-haired person, that couldn’t be defined as a man or woman, which was the whole point of the thing. Steve thought that was awesome, but also a lie, making career-rescuing plan and his good-natured personality get into conflict.

On Friday, when Steve was using his laptop on the sofa and Barnes arrived, he gathered courage to wish him good-night and Barnes _actually waved back_. It was a big advance, considering all things.

Steve didn’t take Barnes as the waving type of guy. He was so astonished that he texted Peggy about it.

On the next morning, after Barnes came home from his daily running, sweating and, as usual, hot as fuck, Steve — who was already up due to the hellish previous days of waking up early — asked if he slept well, but Barnes just grunted something he couldn’t quite understand. To Steve, that was the best direct communication they had since the wi-fi password exchange.

The next day after that, Steve woke up early and tried to make coffee. _Tried_. He thought that something was wrong because the coffee looked _and_ smelled like dirty water, to say nothing of the taste. But it was effort to make something nice for Barnes so he could see if the guy reacted to something or if he was just dead inside.

When Barnes arrived from his running and seated at the kitchen counter, Steve offered him a cup and he accepted in silence. _Awesome, Steve,_ he thought, _now make him talk._

Steve tapped his fingers on the counter, anxiety filling his body as he tried to say _something_. “I’m starting to suspect that you hate me,” Steve blurted regretfully.

“Why?” Barnes asked after a long silence.

“Because you’ve been here for almost a week and you never talk or say anything.”

Barnes got up from the counter and threw the rest of his coffee on the sink, muttering “your coffee sucks” and darting out from the kitchen.

Steve wanted to die _and_ he wanted to kill.

“I think he has a point.” Peggy smirked, picking a drama movie.

“ _What?”_ replied Steve incredulously.

“You _do_ suck at anything involving a kitchen.”

 

GOSSIP: _Actor Steve Rogers is seen entering car with long-haired_ _brunette. Could this mysterious lady be the same as the one from_ _the leaked pics?_

 

 **Thursday, June 25** ** th ** **, 2015**

 

Steve was nervous. Sure, he couldn’t even count how many times he was interviewed, but this time was different.

He never had to _lie_ about such things with a live audience, so he guessed that was a first. Plus, it was a late-night show and he didn’t expected any decency coming from Tony Stark.

The dressing-room wasn’t big enough for his anxious-pacing and Steve was feeling a bit claustrophobic. His relationship adviser, Romanoff, was sitting on the couch in the back of the room, smoking hot in a grey tight pantsuit. Steve caught himself staring at her painted red lips that matched her ginger hair.

 _You’re taken now, dumbass._ He couldn’t just stare at hot people openly the way he used to. Fucking contract.

Romanoff was in the middle of her endless rant about how he should be cautious with his answers, never giving too much information but also creating a flame of curiosity whenever asked about his new partner. Suddenly, an employee entered the room, announcing it was show time, and Steve felt his stomach drop.

Steve spent the whole short path from his dressing-room to the border of the stage trying to clear his head and concentrate on his mission. He was Steven Grant Rogers. He was good at this, he was the _best_ at small talk with hosts. The best at making people fall in love with him all over America.

“And now we have the pleasure to announce a guest who hasn’t graced us with his presence here at _Stark with the Stars_ for a while, but since he has a new movie coming up and we all need to do a little promo of our projects to keep bringing home those paychecks, please welcome Steve Rogers!” Tony Stark chimed, his voice resonating through the entire length of the studio, and Steve felt that now-familiar exciting and yet terrifying feeling of being exposed to the cameras, and the almost touchable sensation of all eyes on the room focused on his every move.

“Hello, Cap! Long time no see!” Tony greeted him when he finally reached the middle of the stage. Steve smiled at him, going for a hug when was surprised by a spontaneous wet kiss on the cheek that made the audience immediately go wild.

“Stark! You look a bit different from the last time. Put some weight on? It suits you,” Steve teased as they sat on the two armchairs in the center of the room.

“Oh, how sweet, he’s trying to offend me!” Stark laughed it off, taking a sip from his mug which carried the words “Iron Man rules, Captain’s for fools”, drawing Steve’s attention.

Marvel was making millions merchandising this feud.

“You can’t grow up, right, Stark? Still convinced that your trash can superhero is better than my captain.” Steve smirked, relaxing a bit. Oh, he missed Tony and his fucking big ego.

“My trash can superhero is a genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist,” Tony snapped right back, with a grin on his face that showed that he thought he’d won the battle. “Now please, do tell me what Mr. Colored Leather Pants can do.”

The audience cooed.

“You clearly haven’t read the comics, have you? I can lend you some if you want to read it... I mean, if you can read above a second grade level.”

“Hitting me with some low blows today, aren’t you?” Tony rolled his eyes and the audience laughed. “I’m just teasing, Rogers. Your ass looks great on the big screen.”

Steve chuckled. “Thanks, Stark, I always knew you couldn’t stop staring at it.”

“So, with ‘The Captain America’ press tour and premiere getting close, it seemed like everything had been going fine until your little _incident_.” Steve made a face. “Since you haven’t made a public explanation yet, could you tell us first-hand what really happened?”

Some headlines appeared on the screen behind Steve and Tony, all of them accusing Steve of being a violent homophobe.

“Tony, you know me” Steve started, pinching the bridge of his nose. “All of this gossip has no background. What really happened was that I was at the parade with a couple of friends and those guys were harassing them,” he explained, keeping his voice calm with a shade of disappointment.

“Why were they even there?”

“I don’t know, but I can assure you they weren’t there for Pride Day,” Steve said. “They were just drunk and started disturbing and harassing my friends before they got really offensive.”

“So, they weren’t a gay couple?”

“Of course not,” Steve stated. “After I tried to get them to leave, they started in with the sexist and homophobic insults and that’s how the fight happened.”

“Huh, let me see if I’ve got this right: you were in the right the whole time? Well, that’s a first,” Stark joked, winking at Steve. “You were just protecting your friends! What a noble gentleman! Let’s have a round of applause for Captain America, ladies and gentlemen!”

The applause started, but Steve cut it off, leaning forward in his chair. “Thank you, guys, but, seriously, I don’t need applause for that. I didn’t do any more than I should.”

“How sweet! My hero!” Stark chuckled, putting his hand over his heart. “You’re welcome to be the captain of my ship anytime, honey.” He batted his eyelashes dramatically.

 _“Stark,_ ” Steve said in a tone half kidding and half warning him to stop embarrassing him.

“Ok, I’ll drop it. So, now, to lighten up the mood let’s talk openly on live TV about your private love life.”

Steve turned to see the edited fake picture leaked on the internet some days ago. He felt his cheeks burn even more as the audience was going wild.

“Are we seeing here a _special_ someone? That’s the question everybody’s _dying_ to know.”

Steve was sweating with nervous. “Actually, yes.”

“Can’t believe you’re actually cheating on me,” replied Tony, making an incredulous grimace. “Who is she?” he demanded jokingly.

“They’re not a... _she_.”

At that, the audience went wild. Steve pressed his ears to avoid the high-pitched screams coming from everywhere, as Tony did the same with an impressive expression. That took almost a minute to calm down. Steve widened his eyes with surprise, and smiled the whole time.

“This is what I call bombastic and super-exclusive news! I’m receiving the information that we just hit our audience record,” Tony said, pressing a hand over a communicator on his left ear. “I want details, but I’ll spare you and your privacy. Back to embarrassing you: how’s the committed way of life going? Is this serious?”

“Yeah, I-” Steve felt his heart racing, because that was the biggest lie of all. Barnes was living with him for more than a week now and they still haven’t had a normal conversation. He was miserable. “I hope. We’re living together now.”

“Wow! Can’t believe my baby is already that grown-up.” Tony was over the top by that moment. “So, Steve, are you saying you’re gay?”

Steve bit his lower lip, frowning. The camera was right on his face, capturing every gesture. “Yes and no.” He shrugged, looking down for a moment. “I really feel like both genders are attractive, I guess it only depends on the person. That’s what bisexuality means.”

Everybody was too shocked for a moment to react, even Tony Stark himself couldn’t develop an answer to that, but he quickly managed to lighten up the mood by wiping imaginary tears from his eyes. “That’s so deep, Rogers. Not everybody has the courage to make such a statement live.”

“It’s the twenty-first century, we should be past this by now.”

“Right?! I totally agree on that.” Tony took a sip of his drink. “So, tell me, why are you coming out now?”

“I’m not. I have always been bi, but nobody asked me before.”

“Ouch, I think I deserved that one,” Tony glanced at the cameras for a second and put one hand over his heart. “And aren’t you afraid of how your fans are gonna react?”

“I guess… no.” Steve scowled. “I’m ready for that.”

Slowly, people started applauding, and, for the first time that night, Steve felt free. Finally, he was telling the truth.

“Well, at least now I know I have a chance to, right, guys… wait, wow” Tony interject, putting one hand at his earphone once again. “The trending topics just updated to #BissexualSteveRogers and #StevesNewBoyfriend!”

“Wow, these people are fast,” commented Steve.

“Let’s see some random live reactions from your fans, shall we?”

The tweets started showing on the board. Steve widened his eyes with the very first one:

“ _CaptainOfMyPuss_ says: who tops?” Tony, muffling a chuckle, said. “That’s a pertinent question; rude, invasive, not politically correct, but that doesn’t mean my audience doesn’t want to know. So, who is the captain of this ship, if you know what I mean?”

Steve blushed. “Gentlemen don’t kiss and tell.” He shrugged.

Tony turned to the audience, laughing hard, “But, hey, Captainofmypuss, let’s not lose our hopes! Next one!” Stark looked at the board again and started reading. “ _BigBootyRogers_ says: I need his name for my gay fanfics.” Tony cheered. “At least someone agrees with me! See? Big booty!”

“At least _try_ to pretend you’re not _that_ obsessed with my ass, for goodness sake,” Steve teased.

“ _JamesBarnesOfficial_ says: #StevesNewBoyfriend it’s me.”

Steve cracked up until he realized that was a verified account. There, that blue check mark. _Then_ he froze, his mouth open wide and heart hammering.

Tony turned back to Steve with a smirk on his face. “Seems like your boy has competiti- _no!”_ Stark’s gaze alternated between the board and Steve, suddenly connecting the dots too.He widened his eyes. “ _No way_ , it can’t be! _That’s_ your boyfriend?! _Now_ I’m jealous. Can we please open the profile picture of this guy? _Oh, my God._ How could you leave me for him, you homewrecker? What does he have that I don’t? Is he, you know, bigger than me?” Stark looked outraged.

Steve’s face was burning. He couldn’t quite answer, so he shrugged his shoulders. “Everything. He’s just everything I ever wanted.”

 _Hell yeah,_ Steve mentally rolled his eyes at himself, _I’ve always dreamed to have a weirdo who I can’t stand and kinda wanna fuck moving into my house._

The audience screamed.

“See, ladies and gentlemen?” Stark opened his arms, encouraging the applauses. “The lesson that we all learned today, kids? Date someone who talks that fondly about you in front of America.” The profile picture of Barnes was on the screen and Steve _couldn’t stop_ staring at those ridiculously beautiful eyes. “Now, seriously, Rogers! You lucky bastard! You have to bring him next time so I can try steal him from you.”

“Watch your language,” said Steve, the best neutral tone of voice he ever had. “He’s mine.”

And again, the audience went untamed, people screaming and cheering, making Steve feel a little blush.

“Ok, ok,” Tony waved to the audience, laughing. “Calm your heaving bosoms, ladies — and gentlemen. We may not have Steve Rogers for everyone anymore, but we still have Daddy Tony right here.” Stark took a sip from his mug while everyone laughed at that. “Now, Steve, we only have a few minutes left, so we’re gonna play this game that you probably played at least once in your life. Now it’s time for: marry, fuck or kill. And I have a feeling _Someone_ is going to get into big trouble at home.” Tony pointed at Steve, discretely.

Steve giggled. “Can’t believe you’re actually doing this to me.”

“To celebrate our recent discover, the first round has only guys. James Howlett, Loki Laufeyson and Wade Wilson. Who do you marry, fuck, and kill?”

The picture of the three actors appeared on the board. Steve exhaled, frowning at the photos. “Oh, man, I’d definitely fuck James, I mean, _look_ at this guy!” He chuckled. “I’d marry Wade and kill Loki. Definitely,” he added.

“Clever,” replied Tony. “Now it’s our female round: Kitty Pryde, Jean Grey and Wanda Maximoff.”

“I heard Wanda said some bad things about me lately, but her comments were based on rumor. I’m happy to see that she fights against homophobia, so, with all due respect,” said Steve, turning at the camera, “I’d marry Wanda because I think she’s a great woman with strong morals.” A row of applauses greeted Steve. “So, I’d fuck Kitty, but I’d only kill Jean because I know she’s not interested in anyone except Scott.”

“You’re such a man of honor, Rogers.” Tony stood up, opening his arms for Steve. As soon as Steve hugged him back, Tony turned him on his back and muttered to the camera: “He’s mine, James!” Stark laughed it off. “Ladies and gentlemen, that was Steve Rogers! Always the best! Thank you for coming and send a kiss to James for me. On the lips, _of course._ ” Stark blinked one last time to the camera.

Steve thanked Stark and left the stage.

His hands were shaking hard, sweating cold. Steve didn’t feel so good, the rush of anxiety over how that interview was going to play out finally catching on him. Lying was against his beliefs, and now there was no turning back. Even if Fury’s plan succeeded, Steve was afraid of the consequences, good or bad. This whole thing could blow his career up and he felt like the worst person in the world. Those thoughts were writhing his stomach, making him want to puke.

He leaned on a wall, trying to stabilize his breathing, only looking up at Natasha’s concerned face after he heard her calling his name worriedly. “Are you okay?”

“No.”

She looked back at some dressing-room’s assistants. “I need a glass of water over here and please prepare our car so Steve can leave.” She passed an arm around his waist, and Steve couldn’t tell what happened, he simply collapsed on her.

“Thanks,” said Steve.

“I didn’t expect you’d be so great, congratulations,” Romanoff muttered close to his ear. When the car arrived, she walked with him. “Fury told me about you, that I should expect you’d have trouble lying.” Romanoff opened the door for him. “You need to know, Steve, that I’m here for whatever you need. I’m your adviser, and although I’m being paid to keep you on the line, I also want you to grow comfortable with the situation, so count on me whenever you need,” she mumbled, holding Steve’s arm, making him feel a little bit less sick.

Steve smiled in return. “Thank you, Ms. Romanoff.”

“Call me Natasha,” she replied. “Your boyfriend is waiting for you.”

 _Boyfriend,_ Steve thought, rolling his eyes internally. _More like strangers with benefits._

_Professional benefits, of course. For now at least._

     

HOLY HOLLYWOOD: _“I feel like both genders are attractive!”_ _Actor Steve Rogers comes out as to be bisexual! Click here to watch __the full_ _interview!_

BUSTED TV: _Who’s James Barnes? Meet the actor who stole our_ _Cap’s heart!_

 

It was late when Steve got home, already undressing in the entrance hall, so he was surprised to see Barnes on the couch watching Steve on that _Stark with the Stars_ — and he immediately stopped unbuttoning his shirt. He noticed Barnes’ eyes glaring at that and, _shit_ , now he was red.

“So, you’d screw Howlett, huh?”

Either Barnes had _finally_ directed a precious word or two in Steve’s direction, or there was a ghost invasion happening in his house. Steve was astonished to realize that he didn’t know which one scared him more _._

Then he had to hold his breath, because waves of shivers caused by that husky voice ran down his spine.

“Are you jealous, honey?” Steve teased, looking away and placing his keys and cellphone on the table.

“Wade is much more my fucking type.”

Steve tried not to compare himself with Wade Wilson, because both were blond with blue eyes, but the comparison was unavoidable.

“The ‘don’t ask, don’t tell’ thing was very clever,” Barnes added.

“Yeah. Also, the thing Natasha did with your twitter account was very good too.”

“It wasn’t Natasha. That was me,” Barnes replied, looking over his shoulder to stare at Steve. He frowned, looking confused, and then finally started talking again. “I thought you’d be as uncomfortable as I am with all this, but turns out you’re a big liar and very convincing.”

Steve froze on his spot. _Oh, no, he didn’t._ He didn’t go against his beliefs and nature in the sake of _both_ their reputations to come home and hear this kind of bullshit.

“ _I beg your pardon,_ ” he snapped, “You see, I was forced into a signing a contract with some rude actor guy, so we could both save our careers.”

“Your career so important that you’d rather lie about your personal life?”

“And yours isn’t?” Steve twisted his lips. “Oh, sorry, I forgot it’s not like you’re using my fame so you can have yours.”

Barnes got up, his fists were clenched. “Don’t talk about me like you know something.”

“Oh, yeah? Wouldn’t I know better than to do this, or know anything _at all_ , if you just _talk_ to me and quit being a jerk? It’s not like I asked for any of this, either,” Steve ranted, his rage taking the best of him.

“You have no clue, do you?” Barnes simply replied, his tone cold and sharp.

Barnes walked firmly, turning his back to Steve and heading upstairs, clearly ending the conversation.

“I’d have a clue if you told me something, anything!” Suddenly, Steve’s stomach was twisting again. He heard the harsh sound of Barnes’ door being slammed and sighed, trying to process what the fuck he got himself into.


	3. TAKE THREE

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The authors do not agree with the LGBTfobic comments made by the journalists on the story.

**Sunday, June 28** ** th ** **, 2015, 3:45 a.m.**

 

Steve was tossing around the bed all night, unable to sleep. The walls were paper thin. The muffled sounds that traveled through the hallway’s walls were somehow making him uneasy.

Steve hadn’t talked to Barnes since the night after he’d called Barnes a jerk, and had implied that he was hypocritical for criticizing Steve for doing what he’d had to in order to save both of their careers. Now, in the dark of his sleepless night, after three long days of coexisting with someone who wouldn’t even acknowledge Steve’s existence inside his own house, it was making him feel a bit guilty.

And sure, the agonizing sounds coming from the other room weren’t helping Rogers’ conscience at all.                        

Steve decided to get out of bed and see what was going on. He probably shouldn’t, considering the semi-hostile way Barnes had been treating him lately, but he decided it was the right thing to do.

_Damn superhero movies and the obtrusively virtuous and morally personality that wouldn’t leave him alone anymore._

Steve crossed the hallway, hesitating as soon as his hand grabbed the door knob. _Damned hands_ , he thought feeling his hands tremble. _Totally involuntarily_. _Not like I’m nervous for invading his personal space or something like…_ He opened the door and suddenly sucked in breath, disconcerted by the image of Barnes lying half-naked. _Fucking hell_.

Barnes’ sharp chin was covered with unshaved beard. _God, his jaw has more structure than my life_ , he thought. Steve couldn’t stop staring at Barnes’ dry, crimson lips. _Wait. What? I can’t be affectionate over this total jerk._ His hair was a bit scruffy, he was sweating and had a suffering expression on his face, whimpering quietly.

Barnes was having a nightmare.

Steve hurried and reached Barnes’ arm, his skin wet with sweat, and Barnes’ eyes snapped open, grabbing Steve’s forearm tightly. He looked right through Steve, terrified, and Steve somehow knew there was something he was hiding.

“It’s just me,” Steve muttered. “You were having a nightmare.”

He focused on Steve, gasping, taking some time to get a grip on reality, and then his eyes went wide. “You-” he stammered, his expression becoming closed off. He shoved Steve’s hands. “Get. Out,” Barnes hissed.

“Are you okay?” Steve asked, confused.

“GET OUT, ROGERS!”

Steve dodged, frowning his brows. Barnes was out of control, desperate, Steve had never seen him like that. He left the room, closing the door quickly, but still could hear Barnes gasping for air inside.

_What the actual fuck?_

 

MASHABLE: _Captain America is doing monster business in_ _pre-sale tickets, and has already beat out X-MEN to become the_ _fastest-selling superhero film in history, according to Fandango,_ _the largest_ _online ticket retailer in the US._

 

Steve woke up to the incessant ringing of his cellphone, and against his will, he answered it.

“What?”

“Thanks to your successful scandal recovery, the pre-sale for _Captain America_ is doing fine,” Natasha informed him.

“Great,” Steve mumbled back.

“But it can be better and now it’s time for our next step. Improving James’ image.” And there was Barnes. Again. Oh, Steve didn’t even want to remember what had happened last night. He just wanted to ask her for five more minutes in silence lying on his bed, but apparently, that was too much to ask. “I need a lovey-dovey picture of you two dressed in casual sleep clothes, so I can upload it to your Instagram account.”

“I’m not even out of bed yet,” Steve replied.

“Even better, just stay there and take a picture of you both on it.”

“ _Natasha_.” Steve couldn’t imagine convincing Barnes to do something like that, he wasn’t even sure he would be able to _talk_ to the guy.

“Well, then hurry up.”

“Oh, _c’mon…_ ” He sighed tiredly, scratching his eyes. Steve got up with his body protesting loudly. He opened his bedroom door, noticing an unknown silence in the ambient. Things were _too_ quiet.

Steve knocked on Barnes’ door, muffling the phone against his shirt. “Barnes? Are you there?” he asked, not waiting for an answer. “Natasha is asking for us to take a couple’s selfie. I thought that maybe we could, I don’t know, grab some mugs and pretend we’re having breakfast together, if you...” Steve suddenly stopped, noticing no sound was coming from the room. No answer, not even the softly sound of morning breathing. “Barnes?” He knocked again on the door, fighting against conscience telling him not to open the door, but he did it anyway and the room was empty.

The bed was set up, curtains open, everything tidy and clean.

Steve reached his phone again. “Natasha, Barnes isn’t here now.”

There was a silence before Romanoff speak again, sounding clearly angry. “What do you _mean_ he’s not there?” she barked. “I specifically told him last night about the couple selfie, so why isn’t he sitting patiently waiting for your ass to wake up?”

“Hm, about that...” Steve started, scratching his hair, “I think we had this tiny, _tiny_ misunderstanding in the middle of the night, which led us nowhere considering we haven’t been talking since the night of the interview and-”

 _“What?_ ”

Steve suddenly realized that, by telling his couples’ adviser he and Barnes haven’t been talking, he had thrown himself in a pit of problems.

 

BUZZED STAR: _Steve Rogers’ boyfriend is seen alone on morning_ _run! Be careful, Steve, or someone might steal your bae!_

 

Starbucks was crowded. Romanoff took a sip from her mug, quiet as the sea after the storm. She put the mug back on the table and _then_ raised her gaze to the pair of men in front of her.

“Why on Earth haven’t you gentlemen been talking to each other for the past three days?” Natasha demanded, crossing her arms bossily. “Are you two _out of your minds_?”

“Why did it have to be Starbucks? Could you be more cliché?” Steve mumbled, holding his mug of brewed espresso with both hands in front of him.

“Because you have to be seen together,” she hissed. “And sitting side by side avoiding touch and eye contact is _not_ what I meant by this.”

Steve and Barnes sighed simultaneously, relaxing shoulders and allowing themselves to slightly touch the tip of their arms. Romanoff was so pissed that her face was almost as red as her hair.

“Seriously, what is _wrong_ with you guys?” Natasha snapped. “This is a serious contract and you’re not being professional.”

Steve pressed his lips tightly and leaned back on his chair, not knowing what to answer. He had been trying his best to at least have a peaceful interaction with Barnes, but the man didn’t loosen up for even a damn moment.

“We are doing what is expected from us. We’re following the stupid contract, just don’t push it,” Barnes declared through his gritted teeth, his chin up in a defensively state.

“I’m not _pushing_ anything, _James_. But let me remind you that the most critical part of your arrangement it’s to convince the general public of your enviable and undeniable love for each other,” Natasha reported, unaffected by Barnes’ hostility. “ _Do_ remember, mister Barnes, I am on _your_ side” she completed, taking a sip from her caffè americano.

“I’m trying, Natasha, but _someone_ doesn’t give a damn about-”

“I don’t care about the disastrous relationship you have, keep it between yourselves,” Natasha replied, not caring to look them in the eyes while she spoke. “Now,” the woman pushed their mugs into their hands, “cotton candy crème frappuccino, seriously, James? Could you be gayer?” and took her cellphone from her purse, holding in the air, “Show your enviable and undeniable love for this camera so we all can finish this quickly.”

Steve and Barnes tensed up, freezing on their spots. “I- hm, what do you want us to do?” Steve asked.

“I don’t know, someone can kiss the other’s cheek, you’re hot and it’s going to look good anyway.”

Simultaneously, Steve and Barnes turned to the same side, going for it and bumping noses, grunting when it obviously went wrong.

“Wait, were you trying to kiss me?” Steve inquired, blushing hard.

“You wish,” Barnes mocked, rolling his eyes and avoiding eye contact.

“I can’t believe I just saw that, a sea-cow could do better than this!” Natasha put her phone away, sighing and taking another sip of her mug before turning her gaze to the men in front of her. “Look, this is not gonna work this way. If you want to convince people, you have to make this relationship seem real. You’re both grown-up men, professional actors, you know what is the solution and we’re going to do this.”

“What solution?” Barnes asked, brow creasing.

“What do you do when you have to act and you don’t know the lines?” Natasha asked rhetorically, arching her eyebrow and crossing her fingers on the table. “Practice.”

“This isn’t a movie,” Steve replied.

“Exactly. This is real life, and considering this, you’re going to practice _harder,_ ” she concluded. “You need to practice your casual touching so it’ll be easier to dismiss the initial awkwardness and, once you’re in public as a couple, it displays a more natural scene for the point of view of an outsider.” She faced each of them separately, her left brow a little elevated, as if daring any of them to contest her orders. “Real couples are attracted to each other’s smell, they _have_ to touch and kiss, to share body heat. They like the proximity and that’s what you have to display.”

“What are you, really?” Steve asked.

“I’m body language expert and couples’ therapist, so, if you’re done questioning my skills, let’s get down to business. James, try brushing the tip of your nose next to Steve’s ear.”

As Barnes made a move toward him, Steve slipped away, eyes wide in shock. “Wait, _wait!_ My ear is sensitive!” he protested.

“That’s the point,” Natasha clarified. James approached again, but Steve stopped him.

“No, this is too much! I’m not gonna do this right in front of you!”

“Oh, yeah? So, what are you waiting for? A crowd of fans? Tabloid photographers and reporters?”

Steve sighed, giving up.  ”Okay but wait, just let me-”

A swift descent of agonizingly good shivers went through his spine as Barnes, without warning, came closer and brushed his nose on Steve’s hair, slowly approaching his ear. Steve closed his eyes out of reflex. _This is killing me._ He found it difficult to breathe.

Natasha smirked. _Great professional adviser,_ Steve thought. _Where can I rank you from zero to minus a hundred?_ “Steve, relax, you’re as hard as rock.”

Well, at least she was right about _that_. Steve turned crimson. “I think it’s enough,” Steve pleaded.

“Okay, that was a start. Let’s simplify things now.” She rolled her eyes. “James, put your arms around Steve.” Natasha continued without giving them the chance to argument. “Or the other way around, depending on who’s the leading one.” She blinked, a trace of a smirk playing on her lips.

Both Steve and Barnes reached for each other’s waists, which made their hands collapsing onto one another and their arms entangle in a very weird position.

“Guys, it’s not that hard. One of you put your hands on someone’s hips, and the other one puts theirs on the shoulders when you hug,” Natasha sighed.

After a moment of silence and hesitation, Barnes stretched out his arm once again, hanging it loosely around Steve’s figure, which made Steve shiver.

“Wait, _why_ do you get to lead?” Steve inquired, turning his body to face Barnes, defiantly.

“And why _can’t_ you let me take command, Rogers? Is it something that would make you uncomfortable?” Barnes tilted his head, faking an air of confusion and innocence towards his words that didn’t quite match the little diabolic smile that was starting to sneak its way at the corner of his lips.

Steve could _feel_ the immediate burning sensation of his cheeks blushing.

_Damn Barnes._

But, hey, at least he was talking.

“Of course not, jerk. Just... focus on the real issue here,” Steve replied, not meeting Barnes’ eyes due to the blush on his face. He felt like he was navigating through unknown waters with the man at this point.

“It’s up to you, punk.” Barnes shot back in the lightest and most casual tone he ever used towards Steve. “Just let’s get done with it, I have somewhere to go.”

Steve used all of his self-control to keep his jaw from hanging open due to the amazed state he was in.

“Aww, see? You’re already giving each other pet names!” Natasha mocked, pretending to check something in an invisible to-do list. “‘Do cute couples’ stuff’, check.”

 

METROPOLIS: _Steve Rogers poses alongside new valentine and_ _makes it “Instagram official”! Check out Hollywood’s newest_ _lovebirds!_

 

Steve hated to wear sunglasses indoors and a cap at night, especially because he knew that would draw more attention than avoid it. He went to grab a take out with Barnes, both of them standing still in the line with hands inside their pockets, a tangible tension hovering between. They didn’t have much to talk about and Steve couldn’t bring himself to hold hands with the man or stay a bit closer. He wanted to, he just _couldn’t._

Natasha wouldn’t like to hear that.

Barnes carried the boxes of pizza, so they both headed at the parking lot when a woman rushed to catch them. She was holding a voice recorder and a notepad, Steve knew she was probably a tabloid journalist.

“Steve Rogers, do you have a moment?”

He glanced at Barnes, who had his jaw tightened, then turned to the woman. “Of course.”

“Would you mind talking about your statement in regards of your sexuality?”

“What is there to talk about?” Steve arched one eyebrow. Barnes gave Steve a warning look.

“Perhaps the fact that you’ve been lying to your fans?” The woman had a sneer on her face.

“Steve, let’s go,” Barnes said.

“I haven’t been lying,” Steve replied, clenching his jaw.

“Then how can you explain dating a guy?” she snapped. “Were you lying to your fans when they thought you were straight?”

Steve suddenly felt a tight grip on his arm. Barnes was right next him. “Nobody asked if I was straight, you just assumed it.”

He opened the door and entered the car. “Your ‘bisexuality’ excuse isn’t convincing. You’re eventually going to choose if you’re gay or straight,” the woman said while Barnes rounded the car.

He started the engine and left her behind quickly. A heavy sigh escaped his mouth. “How can people be so naive? I knew making it public wasn’t a good idea.”

“It’s part of the contract.” Steve bit his lip hard. “Besides, I chose to come out, I can handle the consequences.”

“You sure?” Barnes glanced at him quickly. “You’re ruining the pizza boxes.”

Steve looked down and realized that he had been clenching at the box too hard.

 

IN-TOUCH: _Steve Rogers: bisexual or confused?_

ENQUIRER: _Has Steve Rogers been lying? Page 14: ‘Bisexuality is_ _a social construction built by someone for better adjusting to life’,_ _says sociologist_

 

**Monday, June 29** ** th ** **, 2015, 9:04 a.m.**

Steve woke up to a silent apartment. Sure, it wasn’t like Barnes was the loud type, but he got used to always hearing the TV on or the usual moving around the kitchen noises by now.

It was weird. Steve felt a brief aching feeling of loneliness but quickly snapped out of it.

 _Fuck,_ he thought. If Barnes was his best concept of companionship, Steve was screwed.

 _God, I need a boyfriend._ In fact, Steve hadn’t been in any kind of flirting for longer than he could count, and this was not ordinary for someone like him. Maybe it was the months of filming his recent movie, or the verifiable truth that he needed to meet new people _._ But anyway, now he had no more distractions, except Barnes himself. And Barnes’ presence was constantly remembering Steve that this was some kind of a dangerous attraction. _A real one, for a change._

And then Steve glanced at his nightstand, realizing the clock said 6:34 a.m. Barnes hadn’t come back from his daily morning run yet.

_Oh._

Not that Steve cared. He wasn’t like, missing Barnes or something. Not at all.

He decided to get out of bed since going back to sleep didn’t look much like an option now that he was wide awake. Steve went to the living room, settling on the couch to watch something on the TV.

“Gay or bi? Did you know that female bonobos, a species of monkeys, seek pleasure from other individuals of the same sex? The friction of genitals-” _Ok, no Animal Planet for me today._ Steve changed the channel, a little bewildered.

“Same-sex couples are happier than straight ones! Study shows that-” Steve felt like the universe was pranking him, and was about to change channels again when the front door was opened without a warning.

Steve immediately turned the television off, his face totally taken by the reddish tone that gave away his embarrassment. There was Barnes, standing in middle of the doorway. All wet from the run, his grey sweatpants hanging loose from his waist and tight white tank top sticking to his body. He gave Steve a perplexed look.

Steve was blushing, and he was blushing _hard_.

“What’s that all about?” he asked, entering the apartment and closing the door by pushing his body against it.

_His hot. Wet. Body._

“What do you mean?” Steve said, clearing his throat and trying to adjust himself.

Barnes was carrying a Starbucks paper bag. He took a quick look at Steve before heading to the kitchen, where he placed a Starbucks’ cup of espresso on the counter, which Steve could read “Rogers” in small letters. Barnes took his own cotton candy crème flavored frappuccino and wrapped his lips around the straw to taste it. He arched his brows to Steve, who seemed to be unable to stop staring at that handsome man standing in the middle of his house, and smirked, “enjoying the view?”

Steve was pretty sure his face was burning by now.

And the fact that Barnes bought Steve an espresso didn’t pass unseen to him. The same order he had the previous day. Barnes noticed Steve’s order. Barnes had noticed _Steve._

But, thoughtful or not, he wasn’t just letting James mock him and get his way out of it.

“Not every day you get to see a grown man with long hair and beard drinking a pink smoothie from a sippy cup,” he replied.

To his surprise and complete astonishment, the comment got a small, brief smile from Barnes. It was probably his best attempt to make Barnes smile and interact until now, and Steve felt like he was getting the hang of it.

His face turned grumpy again. “Natasha ordered me to tell you that you’re going with us to the ‘The Winter Soldier’ set today. It was something about attracting paparazzi and stuff.” Barnes paced around the room, not looking at Steve.

“Fine by me,” Steve replied.

“We’re, hm-” he cleared his throat, “we have to show a little bit more of public affection today.”

“Natasha said we need to practice,” Steve pointed out, while looking down at his feet. Not because he was embarrassed or something, he was just admiring his new shoes. Nice ones, these. “Before doing it for real, I mean.”

“Yeah, I know. I was there too,” Barnes snapped almost like he was afraid of saying that out loud. His gaze was heavy on Steve, like he was some kind of predator.

Oh, Steve wouldn’t complain if he was. “What, _now_?”

Barnes sighed. “Do you need to put some lipstick on or what? I’m ready.” As Steve couldn’t react to that, Barnes shortened the space between them; Steve held his breath, body getting hot with the proximity. “Put your hands around my shoulders and kiss me already.”

“Why don’t _you_ put your hands around my shoulders?”

“Oh, again with that?” Barnes rolled his eyes. “Rogers, accept it, you don’t look like the commanding type.”

Steve stepped back, widening his eyes in shock. Barnes had a fucking cynical half-smile playing on his lips, that jerk. “Why _not?_ I am the commanding type.”

“Well, if you say so, then prove it,” declared, crossing his arms.

The challenging face Barnes’ made hit Steve’s weak point and it was all that it took to Steve manhandle his arm and push him back to the nearest wall, grabbing his waist and pressing his body against Barnes’.

Steve’s lips were so close to his face he momentarily lost his train of thought and forgot that was just a practice. Barnes looked up, and, for less than a second, Steve _almost_ missed the subtle movement his lips did like he was actually going for a kiss. Barnes widened his eyes, his face turning red.

“You puckered up, I saw it,” Steve accused.

Barnes’ eyes got wide. “No I didn’t.”

“Yes, you did,” he replied, smirking, one eyebrow raised.

“It was a reflex!” Barnes retorted, looking away from Steve.

“Oh, you _so_ puckered up for the kiss.” Steve giggled. “You wanted to kiss me.”

“It was a _fucking_ reflex _,_ get over it!” Barnes thrust against Steve’s chest, not making any effect.

Suddenly, the front door snapped open, and Natasha, dressed in a casual suit, holding a purse and cellphone, strode into the room and stopped in front of them.

“Are you gentlemen ready?” she inquired. “I’m glad you two are practicing, but James, you need to shower. Steven, have some respect for your fake-boyfriend’s appointment and make yourself presentable. Hurry up, you can always finish this later.”

 

OK!: _Steve Rogers was seen visiting boyfriend’s movie set and_ _posing for pictures with fans. What a cute couple!  Click here to see __the pictures!_

 

Barnes’ movie was about a cyborg assassin with amnesia, which surprisingly had a good plot, director and actors. Barnes was always being pushed around, makeup artist and hairstylist, assistant and personal trainer always following him like he was the center of the universe.

Steve was shocked.

He couldn’t grasp the fact that the interactive, funny man joking around with the producers was the same silent and rude housemate he had. Barnes seemed so easy to talk, to be friends with, someone Steve would definitely admire — even fall for, if it was the case.

And Steve just couldn’t digest that. It was unfair with him to be deprived of that side of Barnes. He was getting so frustrated he started sending texts to his group with Angie and Peggy.

 

STEVE: I’m gonna kill this cretinous jackass

PEGGY: Language, Steve.

ANGIE: what an enviable love you two have

STEVE: I swear this fucker is testing my patience by being nice with EVERYBODY EXCEPT ME

ANGIE: oh, so _he’s_ the fucker? good to know

STEVE: Not you too!

 

Steve was sitting on a stool with Natasha, distracted by his phone when he caught a glimpse of Barnes arriving at the set with a white robe, followed by a blonde woman dressed the same way. They were talking quiet and casually when the director announced the start of a new take.

“Ok, guys, bedroom scene, you know what to do. Let’s finish this in one take. Sharon, go hard on him,” the director said.

“Got it, boss,” the blonde woman replied, laying on a bed in the middle of a bedroom scenario.

“Bedroom scene, take one and… ACTION!”

They both took off their robes and Steve found it hard to breath. The woman was wearing a black lace nightdress and her body was just a wonderland. And Barnes. Barnes was only dressed in shabby jeans; his abdomen defined and his right shoulder was covered with some makeup scars, part of the character he was interpreting.

Barnes stood on a side of the room and the woman got up from bed, a cautious expression on her face while she heads towards him.

“You’re not going to hurt me,” she stated.

“You don’t know that.” That husky tone of voice again, Steve could die just hearing it.

“I do, you’re a good man, soldier.” The woman approached Barnes and held his face on one hand.

“Not really, no,” Barnes replied, laying on her touch. _That can’t be happening_. Steve felt some cold sensation freezing his spine, spreading a spark of agony through him. “But somehow I feel that you’re the only one who can understand me.”

Steve was crossing and uncrossing his arms. He turned to Natasha and whispered, “she’s not even naturally blonde, I mean, you can clearly see that,” narrowing his eyes.

“God, you’re being _so_ gay for him right now.” She rolled her eyes.

Steve took that as an encouragement. “Her script is bad. She can’t act, look at this.”

“Steve,” Natasha called, “shut the hell up.”

“I know you’re in there, because I was, too, when they did it to me,” the woman muttered to James’ face. Then she stood on tiptoe, rounding Barnes’ shoulders with her arms. “And I’m going to take you out of there.”

And she _kissed_ him. She wrapped herself around him closer than cling wrap and that jerk fucking laid into her touch like it was the eighth wonder of the world. Steve got up with a sudden brutal ferocity, like fire was consuming him inside out. _What the fuck is happening?_ How could this fucker interact like a magnet to that girl _and_ be as emotional as a wooden door with Steve?

Suddenly Natasha grabbed his arm hard. “Sit your _horny ass_ back there.”

 _But that’s my boyfriend_ , Steve wanted to reply. _Fake-boyfriend_ , he corrected himself. There was nothing romantic between them. _But still._ Steve looked around, making sure nobody noticed.

Natasha leaned on his ear, whispering “don’t screw things up!” and readjusted herself, crossing her legs.

He totally would rub his own face on the asphalt after that. So pathetic.

Steve still had not recovered from his intense crisis of jealousy when Barnes opened his eyes, glaring straight to him, and Steve realized he was staring too long, but he could not look away.

“AND… CUT!” the director announced. “Guys, you were perfect. Ten-minute-rest and we’re starting the garden scene.”

The blonde woman and Barnes finally stepped away, she was saying something and making him laugh, then he slightly touched her shoulder and pointed to where Steve and Natasha were seated. She looked straight at Steve and smiled. James and the woman started walking directly at them.

“Remember, be nice,” Natasha whispered with a menacing look.

“Guys, this is Sharon,” Barnes said as the woman and he arrived. “Sharon, that’s Natasha, my assistant, and Steve.”

_And Steve._

“My God, Steve Rogers!” Sharon exclaimed, grabbing his hand and shaking fiercely. “It’s an honor to meet you and have you here validating my work! I’m a _huge_ fan of yours.”

_I ain’t validating shit._

“It’s nice to meet you too,” Steve replied nicest as possible. Which meant it was not nice enough.

“James said it would be stupid of me, but I need to ask, what did you think of my acting?”

 _Be nice_ , Natasha’s voice echoed inside his head.

“Are you sure you wanna ask _me_ about your acting?” Steve arched one eyebrow.

“Yeah, well, I admire you a lot. I really want to know-”

“Right.” _You kiss like you’re a sink plunger,_ thought Steve, but he cleared his throat to avoid saying that out loud. “It’s not that you’re a bad kisser, but the character needed more than that.” Barnes and Natasha turned to Steve like they were about to cut his head out of his body. _What?_ , mouthed Natasha, eyes wide.

“What- what do you mean?” Sharon blinked.

“I mean,” _get your fucking mouth away from him_ , “you want to bring an amnesiac soldier back to life, his emotions are still numb, so you need to be slow and show him he has a soul, to… kiss him deeply because you want him.” Steve stopped, staring at Sharon which had her brows furrowed. _Is she actually taking me seriously?_ “The kiss was too shallow and automatic. It felt scripted.”

“Like… how, for example?” Sharon asked, seeming truly curious.

“When you say that you believe he’s in there, I would’ve grabbed him by the waist and-” Steve started, losing focus when he quickly glanced at Barnes and saw a predatory defiant expression on his face, realizing he started talking _I would’ve_ instead of _you should’ve,_ but now the mess was already made, “and kissed his neck, slowly rising up to his face, giving him time to recognize my touch, and staring into his eyes one more moment before I reach for his lips.”

“Yeah?” Barnes inquired now with a blank face. “Give us a demonstration.”

Steve was too distracted with the clear chance of touching Barnes to care about Natasha and Sharon standing right next to them. He didn’t give a damn. He shortened the space between them and guided one hand inside Barnes’ robe, reaching and grabbing his waist, his fingers caressing James’ skin. The other hand held one side of Barnes’ neck as Steve’s face got closer.

 _I’m going to lose my damn mind,_ thought Steve. His body seemed to be acting out his pent up desires before he realized what was happening.

He lowered his lips to the skin of Barnes’ neck, feeling the warmth of his body. Steve was being entirely guided by his wills.

“What are you doing, Rogers?” Barnes whispered to nobody but Steve.

Steve smirked. “It’s for instructional purposes only.”

It was like he was alone in the world with Barnes. He rubbed his lips on Barnes’ skin once, twice, losing his mind when small goosebumps broke out across his fake-boyfriend’s skin.

“You punk,” Barnes muttered.

“You asked.”

Barnes suddenly leaned in, and Steve felt a warm and wet touch on his earlobe, and he could swear his heart skipped a beat with the sudden swoops of agony and ardor that hit him. _Oh, no._ He gasped involuntarily. Barnes had sucked his earlobe and Steve felt like he was dying inside.

“ _Shit,_ ” whispered almost running out of air.

He heard Barnes soft chuckle. “For instructional purposes only.”

Steve was going to murder him for sure.

“Yeah, maybe if James and I talk to the director we can remake the scene-” said Sharon, making Steve startle. Steve spread a hand on Barnes’ chest and quickly pushed him back.

“It’s about time,” Natasha muttered under her breath, looking pretty smug and self-satisfied with a smirk on her lips.


	4. TAKE FOUR

**Thursday, July 02** ** nd ** **, 2015**

 

“Peggy already ordered the cake. It’s not gonna be a huge party, you know? We know you like to keep things between your friends. Sam, Scott, Clint and Maria are coming, but Howard is traveling and Bruce hasn’t replied yet,” Angie informed through the skype call as she was reading a guest list.

“That’s great, Angie,” Steve said, hesitating. “But, you know, you don’t need to do this for me.”

“Stop it, it’s your birthday and Peggy said you love cake.”

“He _loves_ cake,” Peggy’s voice interrupted. “He’s like trisexual or something. Steve loves men, women, and cakes. Not necessarily in that order.”

“Probably cake above all.” Steve giggled. “But sometimes I feel like a burden to you.” Steve always had this general feeling that he was not in the right place because of having dated Peggy in the past. It was like he was a third wheel or something.

“You’re part of the family,” Angie stated.

“Yeah, like a grandpa or a dog,” Peggy corrected.

“You know that’s not a compliment, right,” Steve observed and the girl started chuckling. “It’s still like a burden, but alive.”

“As I was saying, we, well…” Angie continued, “we did the math and we were expecting an extra guest. Are you calling your boy or will we have to call him ourselves?”

“What, invite Barnes?” Steve furrowed his brows. “I don’t think he’d go. He probably hates me, and it’s mutual.”

“I guess we’ll have to call him, then,” Angie concluded. “So, you’re saying you didn’t have even a _teeny tiny_ desire to throw him against the nearest piece of furniture and bend that fucker over?” Even though they were skyping just through voice call he could almost _feel_ Angie narrowing her eyes and her burning gaze through her tone.

He smiled to himself, trying to capture her features on the sketchbook in his lap. But then he took another look, and realized something was odd about her face’s structure. It was a bit angled and rough. And masculine. And way too _Barnes-ish_.

_Dammit._

“Yeah... maybe?” Steve admitted, because this was Peggy and Angie. They were like the three musketeers when it came to dirty subjects. No secrets, all the details possible. “Why this question out of the sudden?”

“Oh, geez, I don’t know? Perhaps the pictures all over the internet of you two eating each other’s face gave me a clue?” Angie remarked, rhetorically.

Steve froze in the spot. _Fuck._

“So, I’ll take it by your silence that you had no idea that there’s some snaps of you getting all hot and heavy with your fake boyfriend.”

_Wait, what?_

Steve was about to ask what they were mocking him about when his phone started to ring on the nightstand beside his bed, where he was sitting cross legged talking to his friends on the laptop.

“Hello?” he answered it right away, pausing the skype call and forgetting to read the name on the screen first.

“Hi there, baby doll,” Fury’s voice reverberated in his ear, and Steve immediately regretted not checking who it was before picking it up. Shit.

“Oh, if that isn’t my beloved agent. I almost missed you, Fury,” Steve replied, not able to contain the sarcasm in his voice. “Almost.”

“I just called to give you my congratulations on your magnificent performance the other day.” Fury’s tone was suggestive.

“Performance? Like... acting?” Steve was perplexed. “I’m not in any roles right now.”

“Ha ha, funny boy.” Fury was dripping irony at this point. “Also, I wanted to inform you about your holiday schedule. I’m sure Ms. Romanoff already told you about-”

As of now, Steve wasn’t even paying attention to Fury’s words, he was too busy searching on his laptop what the fuck everyone was talking about.

What he saw couldn’t be unseen. He and Barnes were all over Google Images, and he saw the most surrendered expression ever printed on his own face. _Man,_ that’s _how I look when I’m hard? Talk about a turn off._ Their bodies were tangled, waists grabbed hard and reddish lips over each other’s skin, apparently in the middle of something very, very hot.

Something, somewhere deep inside Steve’s body, found that unquestionably arousing.

“… on your holiday cruise with Romanoff and the photographer.”

“ _Holy shit!_ ” Steve thundered.

“I suppose that means you’re not a big fan of cruises.”

“Cruise? What cruise?” Steve snapped back to reality.

“Are you even listening to me, Rogers?” Fury inquired.

“I- no, I’m sorry.”

“What am I gonna do with you?” He sighed heavily. “Pierce and I were talking and we decided that we can’t just wait for an occasional public appearance to expose your relationship with Barnes, therefore he has provided a photographer to follow you.” _Great. More exposure_ , Steve thought, _that’s all I needed._ “Which means you’ll have to fully inhabit your character on this relationship, but I presume it’s not gonna be a big challenge. Romanoff reported me your bond with Barnes is apparently evolving.”

 _Oh, did she?_ Steve rolled his eyes. _I see now how much on our side that big manipulator really is._

“Speaking of inhabiting your character, the 4th of July is the perfect timing for it, so you and your lovely boyfriend are going to spend it on this famous cruise, the Norwegian Escape, three days and two nights. Special celebration route. Romanoff and the photographer will be your company.”

“Wait. Fury, my birthday is on 4th of July.”

“That’s the whole point. Did you think I forgot your birthday, sweet pea?”

“I actually had plans, my friends were organizing a party,” Steve retorted.

“That’s not a problem, take the party to the cruise and we’re done. You leave tomorrow at 3 p.m., Romanoff will be emailing your reservations today. And Rogers,” Fury made a dramatic pause, “keep the good work, it’s quite convincing. If I didn’t know you, I’d say you really wanted to get busy with Barnes in that picture.”

_Thank God you don’t know me, Nick._

Steve ended Fury’s call and restarted the one with Angie. “Cancel the party. We’re going on a cruise.”

    

BUZZED STAR: _OMG! Steve Rogers and his new boy toy caught in_ _a hot make out during filming break! Click here to see the pics!_

@UghRogers: SEXIEST COUPLE EVER

@CaptainAmericano: Oh, the honeymoon phase... Where can I find my own James?

@SteveCapsicle: ARE MY EYES WITNESSING STEVE FUCKING ROGERS’ ORGASM FACE??

@JamesBarnesOfficial in reply to @SteveCapsicle: yes.

 

**Friday, July 03** ** rd ** **, 2015**

 

“Steve, come on, stop messing around. We have to leave this afternoon and all you have ready to take with you it’s pretty much your own head, and that’s because it’s stuck to your neck,” Peggy blurted out, a little annoyed with his lack of focus. “Not that you use it very often, anyway.”

“I just don’t know what to pack,” Steve mumbled while throwing random pieces of clothing out of his closet. “Hey, do you think I look good in this?” he asked, putting a black and red plaid shirt in front of his body.

“Oh, no way! You’re not showing up at a freaking _five stars cruise_ with this old trash! At least, not where I can be associated with you.”

“But I look damn hot in this!”

“Yeah, for a ninety-year-old man. The grandmas’ pussies will be on fire.” Peggy grabbed the shirt from Steve’s hands and threw it in the farthest place of his closet. “I’ll tell you what. You look good on plain red shirts, khaki or dark blue pants, blue dress shirts, lumberjack boots, and suits,” she was counting on her fingers. “You look damn good in suits and it’s a cruise, show you have some money.”

“Ok, you’re the boss, but I’m not giving up on my leather pants. Not happening,” Steve pounded, taking one of them out of the pile.

“There’s _no way_ you fit in these,” Peggy retorted, in the most disbelieving tone.

“Are you nuts? Of course I do.”

“Your ass is too big for it nowadays, baby,” she rolled her eyes, “not a bad thing, though.”

“That’s just part of the magic. Just sit and appreciate the view, it will blow your mind.” Steve winked, teasing his friend.

Steve took Peggy by the hand and sat her on the edge of the bed, slowly taking off his shirt and letting it fall to the ground. He danced around Peggy with ridiculous moves while unbuttoning his pants.

“… Missing the old times?” he joked.

“Yeah, you used to get me as wet as a waterfall.” She rolled her eyes. “That’s why I’m into girls now.”

Steve chuckled and jokingly put Peggy’s hand on his torso — she made a disgusted expression — and suddenly he _heard_ a nauseated sound.

Peggy couldn’t be hating it _that_ much.

Steve turned automatically, only to find Barnes standing in front of his open door. His face quickly turned blank, expressionless, but Steve could swear he saw a trace of annoyance there.

“Hey, you’re back. I thought you were dealing with your urgent commitment.”

“Yeah, I’m done with it.” James cleared his throat, then stared straight through Steve. “Sorry to interrupt. Pierce called and we have to go,” Barnes stated.

“Oh, fine,” Steve replied, stepping away from his friend. “You haven’t met my friend Peggy,” he pointed to her, “and this is James.”

“Hello, James,” Peggy greeted with her deep and pleasant tone of voice, generally used to seduce people. Barnes pursed his lips in reply, not even a little affected.

“I’ll be done packing in a minute, Peggy was helping me,” Steve answered in one breath. He felt like he owned Barnes an explanation, which was odd. He didn’t owe him shit.

“And who’s the suitcase in the living room?”

“It’s hers,” Steve replied. “She’s coming with us.”

 _“Why?_ ” he blurted out. “I mean, is she?”

“Yeah, she and-”

“Steve, your _fucking_ cab is already here,” Angie stormed out the apartment, gesturing and screaming. “If you and your handsome virile boy don’t show up at this very momen- hey!” Angie spotted Barnes, widening her eyes and changing her tone of voice drastically, from evil to an angel. “You must be Steve’s boytoy!” She stood in her tiptoe and kissed him on the cheek. “Nice to meet you!”

“Who are you?” Barnes replied.

“I’m Peggy’s girltoy,” she answered with a grin, turning to Peggy and kissing her on the lips. “Hey, honey, is our baby Stevie ready?”

“No,” Peggy said calmly, “but he will be after you spank him.”

“Oh, don’t tease me,” Steve mocked, throwing his clothes in his suitcase, “you know I’m kinda into this wild stuff.” He smirked, grabbing his phone and wallet. “Is everybody already there?”

“Yeah, they’re not lazy like you.”

“Who’s _they?_ ” Barnes asked suddenly.

“The whole party!” Angie cheered. “Also, _you’re_ invited!”

“What party?”

“Oh my God, Steve, your bae forgot your birthday! How do you guys have sex without knowing each other’s zodiac sign? Shame on you.” Angie winked.

“As long as he’s no Aries, I’m all good with the rest,” Steve joked. “Please tell me you’re not an Aries.” He turned to James, his face dead serious.

“Not a _what_?”

“Oh, God, definitely not.” Angie rolled her eyes, still amused with the whole situation. “Sure fits into the Pisces way of life, look at the shape of his eyes.”

“Wide, right? But his jaw’s structure seems to be Leo,” Steve replied.

“No,” Angie nodded, “his expressions are potentially vulnerable. It’s like Cancer, but less manipulative. It’s pure.”

Barnes stood there, a perplexed expression printed on his features. “The fortune teller got it right.” Steve blushed, suddenly realizing he was overanalyzing Barnes’ shapes based on a pseudoscience in front of him.

“Great, two water signs, we can see you’re soulmates, _but the fucking cab is leaving, suckers_!” Angie thundered, already at the front door.

 

WEEKLY HAUNT: _Is it honeymoon time for the lovebirds? Source_ _says Steve and his boy are spending the 4_ _th_ _of July on a five starts_ _cruise with friends!_

 

“So over there is the south elevator, you go up for the water park and down for restaurants and nightclub in general,” Natasha pointed out for the group behind her, that constituted of Steve, Barnes and the girls, “on east there’s hydrotherapy pool, sauna and spa, and you can go for the bookstore and little shops.”

“Holy fuck, I ain’t ever taking my ass out of the whirlpool tub,” Angie muttered to Peggy.

“How do you already know this? You haven’t been here any longer than I have,” Steve asked, frowning.

“I read the cruise map,” Natasha turned to him with a blank expression, handling a magnetic card to Barnes and another to Peggy. “Your suite is here” she informed.

Barnes opened the door with the card and Steve turned to Natasha. “Where’s mine?”

“Are you joking?” she asked, frowning and exchanging gazes with Barnes. “Is he joking? I never know.” Romanoff sighed and opened her notepad. “Anyway, as you requested, your friends arrived and are hosted on the third floor. Sam Wilson is on 45, Clint Barton’s 47, Scott Lang’s 53 and Maria Hill is on 54. Tony Stark was the only narcissistic bastard that decided to rent a presidential suite on the fifth floor with two butlers.”

“Typical,” Peggy snorted. “Angie and I are going. See you later, Steve.”

“Shall we go in?” Natasha stepped into the suite and let Steve and James enter before closing the door. The room in front of them was decorated with shades of brown and yellow; there was a two-seat couch, television and a small table. It was comfortable. “This is the deluxe couple’s suite. You have a kind of a living room here and there is the balcony, please do not try to kill yourself, otherwise Fury and Pierce are gonna kill me _and_ I’m gonna torture you in hell.” She paced to a doorjamb with no door that led to a tiny white room with a big and round bathtub. “This is the bathroom, and if you push this glass door here, there is your love nest.”

Steve gazed at the round king-sized bed and back to the bathroom with no doors. “Natasha, where’s the fucking bathroom door?”

“Did you hear me when I say it was a deluxe _couple’s_ suite?” Natasha rolled her eyeballs. “You both have cocks and morning wood, there’s nothing to hide.”

“It’s not _that_ simple!” Steve protested, blushing.

“Then _make it_ simple,” Natasha retorted.

“Are you afraid I’m gonna stare at your broomstick, pal?” Barnes teased, smirking.

“Maybe Steve’s babymaker is shy,” Natasha suggested. “Maybe it’s just a little fellow.”

“Or a throbbing python of love,” Barnes added.

 _“Fine!_ The suite is fine! Stop talking about my dick!” Steve crossed his arms and looked away, trying to get rid of the blush.

“Sure,” Natasha replied. “If your meat popsicle does not have any other objection, I would like to draw your attention to the basic principle of this contract.” She picked her notepad up. “You may act like a couple to the general public of this cruise, and remember this is a famous cruise and host a lot of famous people. If you have lunch, have the meal together. If you want hydro massage, side by side with your partner. Nightclub, dinner, the 4th of July special celebration, _only_ with your boyfriend.”

 _These are going to be long three days,_ Steve sighed.

Natasha’s cellphone beeped and she typed an answer right away. “Boys, I need you to meet someone.” She opened the door and a man with a camera bag entered. “This is Brock Rumlow, the professional photographer Barnes’ agent hired.”

“Nice to meet you,” the guy said with a tiny smile.

Rumlow was a tall and lean, with a triangular face and small eyes. His expressions were not kind, but Pierce’s weren’t too, so Steve was not surprised.

“Brock will be responsible for the photos of you two, so he’s familiar with the contract. I only ask you gentlemen to facilitate his work.” Natasha opened the door again. “Now, excuse us. If you need me, you know my number.”

Natasha and Rumlow left and Steve felt all the weight of the sharing-a-bedroom thing fall on him. That idea was a bit arousing, but bad in uncountable ways. How would they share the bed? That round and, in some ways, romantic bed?

How would he _shower_ or take a piss or something?

That was so not what he planned for his birthday.

“I’m taking the couch,” Barnes said, taking Steve out of his thoughts.

Steve froze for a second, glaring at him. “We can both stay in the bed,” he added, “I mean. It’s big enough for us to share.”

James turned his back to Steve and started unpacking. Steve reached for his phone and discovered he was inserted on a new message group called “leather pants’ birthday”, which obviously was Tony’s fault.

“So,” he heard Barnes low tone of voice start, not eyeing him, “Peggy and Angie. They’re together, huh.”

“Yeah…” Steve nodded.

“I thought-” Barnes turned, still not looking at Steve, “She and you seemed- well, never mind. I didn’t know you were with someone.”

“We dated years ago, but we’re just best friends now, it’s not like you interrupted something,” Steve clarified, not knowing why he was doing that. They weren’t in a real relationship, he didn’t own Barnes an explanation.

“Good.” James nodded, his face as unreadable as ever.

“I forgot to tell you that I had taken someone home, so, sorry about that.”

“Yeah.” Barnes shrugged, back to his suitcase.

Steve felt like he needed to say something. He couldn’t end the best passive interaction they’ve ever had like this. They’ve been arguing or teasing, nothing in between, and that one was almost like talking about the weather.

“Hey,” Steve cleared his throat, “I just wanted to let you know that you are free to bring your date, or any person you are seeing to the apartment.” Steve rushed the words out of his mouth, as if he was afraid that if he didn’t get it out in the air he wouldn’t have the guts to do it another time. “You live there now. It’s your home too.”

Barnes started gazing at him in the middle of the sentence, and now his silence was slowly suffocating Steve. Finally, he nodded and said “okay”. Barnes crossed the room, brushing Steve’s arm with his while he passed by, putting his clothes inside the closet.

“Are you?” Steve blurted out, holding his breath afraid of the answer.

Barnes spun on his heels. “Am I what?”

“Seeing someone?”

“I’m looking at you right now,” Barnes replied, and Steve could swear he saw a trace of a smirk on his lips.

“ _Jerk,_ ” Steve shot back, eyeing Barnes.

“I’m not.”

“A jerk?”

“That too,” Barnes snorted, rolling his eyes, “but except for my _handsome_ fake-boyfriend, I’m not dating.” He turned his back to Steve and left to the balcony.

Steve didn’t know what to do. Was he supposed to follow him outside? And why the hell his chest was filled with this strange sensation of relief?

His phone beeped.

 

TONY: WHAT’S UP LOSERS

TONY: I have a jacuzzi and everybody’s invited

TONY: Drag your hot buttocks over here

TONY: And leather pants, bring your boy  (;

TONY: P.S.: clothes are optional

 

BUSTED TV: _Inside photos of Norwegian Escape show Steve_ _Rogers, Clint Barton, Tony Stark and friends_

 

“I hope you’re using the white trunks that favors your butt’s peachy shape,” Tony winked, slapping his ass when Steve passed through him at his suite door. Steve winced, out of surprise, and jerked forward. Tony Stark himself was wearing white trunks.

“At least give me wine before you start grabbing my ass,” Steve played back.

“My women, Peggy and her beautiful lady Angie!” Tony greeted. “Peggy, you look great today, as always! Loved your dress-”

“Threesome’s not gonna happen, Stark,” Peggy warned, passing by him without giving a stare.

“Dicks are not our thing, pal.” Angie shrugged it off.

“Cold as ice freezing my heart, got it,” Tony nodded, “still love you.”

Suddenly Stark’s room was filled with the whole crew. Clint, Sam and Scott were already on the jacuzzi, splashing water to every side and fighting over the spot with hydro massage. Maria was the only one laying on the sun lounger with a glass of a red drink, not a care in the world.

Steve noticed James hesitate at the doorstep for a brief second before entering the place, shutting the door behind him.

“It’s all good?” Steve approached and asked him, instinctively.

Barnes nodded.  ”Yeah, why wouldn’t it be?”

“Geez, Rogers, don’t be greedy. Cut good ol’ Tony some slack here.” Tony walked up on them. “Hey, gorgeous, ain’t you lil something?” He checked Barnes up, and Steve could feel James tensing.

“That’s private property, Stark, already told ya that,” Steve reminded him, stepping closer to Barnes and sliding his hand until he could reach Barnes’. He had never done that, his stomach was spinning like he was on a rollercoaster.

Barnes’ hand was warm when he entwined his fingers. It was calloused and strong, and he felt Barnes tightening the touch. His stomach clenched hard.

“God, you’re such a turn-off,” Stark retorted, “how hasn’t natural selection extinguished you yet?” Stark waved his hands. “Well, suit yourselves and enjoy the party because I have a jacuzzi and you don’t. Yep, that’s me.”

“So, this is your jacuzzi friend,” Barnes said slowly when Stark was gone. “I think he just hit on me.”

“This is what I have to deal with.”

“What happened?” Barnes asked. “He was such a nice and modest guy on television.”

Steve snorted. “You have no idea how cocky Stark is. But he has a good heart and the best parties.”

“Steve!” Clint shouted, getting up from the tub and waving like an inflatable tube man. “Over here! Come on in, guys!”

Steve rolled his eyes, ignoring Clint and turning to Barnes, who had his back to the hot tub, as if he could hide himself.  

Because of that, Clint climbed out of the tub, water running down him like a waterfall and barely dressed in purple shorts, and came from behind them. He threw his arms around Steve and Barnes’ shoulders, wetting them all. “C’mon, Steve, the water is fine!”

“Yeah, I can feel it now, thanks,” Steve said, rolling his eyes.

“Ain’t you gonna introduce your boy to your best buddy?” Clint looked at Barnes, who was trying to take some hair strands away from his face.

“Are you drunk?”

“You bet I am,” Clint chuckled. “This is just the warm-up for your party.”

“Alright. Clint, this is James.” Steve and Barnes turned, his hand loose on the other man’s waist. “James, this is nobody.”

He felt Barnes freeze beneath his touch the instant the man looked at Clint, his figure immediately tensing up. Steve thought that maybe he missed something. Even Clint was still in his spot, eyes scanning Barnes.

“Barton,” Barnes said, faintly.

“Bucky?” Clint widened his eyes. “What are you-” he looked over to Steve again, whatever he meant to say was lost in his mouth.

“Do you guys know each other?” Steve asked.

“Yeah,” both of them said in unison. Clint shook his head, a brief smile played on his lips. “We did a thing together, once.”

“Work,” Barnes corrected.

“Work,” Clint repeated. “We worked together once. Small thing.”

“Oh.” Steve nodded. Was it just Steve or there was a tone of uncertainty in that sentence? He couldn’t help but wonder if Clint and Barnes were ever together or something like that. If so, then Barnes wouldn’t have the need to hide. Their involvement was fake, after all. “Well, I’m sorry for that. Can’t imagine how someone can handle Clint.”

“Ha ha, very funny, Rogers. You know I’m the best guy here.” Clint patted Barnes’ shoulder. “The most handsome too. Well, after you, I suppose. Almost didn’t recognize you, man. Your hair is longer than the last time I saw you, and you’re...” Clint took a look at Barnes, making a surprise face, _“bigger._ Man, I’m so drunk.”

Barnes giggled. “Thanks, I guess. You changed a lot, too.”

“Why do I feel like everybody is hitting on him?” Steve asked half angry.

“I’m tired of hitting on you because you never gave a fuck, so I guess Barnes here is a nice target, for a change,” Clint said with a half accusing, half joking tone of voice, “and Tony ‘cause he’s a narcissist with a never-ending need to inflate his own ego.”

“I heard you, Barton,” a disbelieving Tony called out. He narrowed his eyes at Clint. “Remember this is my jacuzzi.”

“Hey, who’s ready for some beer?” Angie stepped in, with some bottles hanging from her grip.

“I am.” James doesn’t even blink before grabbing one, seconds later already turning the contents into his mouth.

“Woah, easy there,” Steve said, frowning.

Barnes rolled his eyes at him as if Steve was being ridiculous.

“Hold me,” Barnes ordered, stepping closer and holding his bottle near his mouth making his expression look obscene.

Steve replied with a puzzled expression.

“C’mon. Act like a couple,” Barnes insisted.

Steve shortened the space between them, brushing skin to skin. He led his mouth to Barnes’ ear, whispering “like this?” and laid one arm around Barnes’ waist.

“Yeah,” Barnes mumbled near Steve’s ear. Before Steve could do anything, the man held his chin still and kissed the corner of his lips softly. “Now pretend you liked it.”

 _God,_ Steve gasped softly on Barnes’ ear, _I already do._

Angie took the rest of the drinks with her and moved farthest into the suite, closer to the jacuzzi where the rest of the group was reunited. While they followed her outside, Steve was still trying to readjust himself.

“Dude, you guys finally showed up!” Sam shouted, splashing water all over his surroundings. “The water is nice and hot!”

“You better not have pissed in it, Wilson,” Stark warned, accusingly.

“Peggy, have you seen my sunglasses?” Steve turned to the brunette. “Also, could you put sunscreen on me?”

 _“Take care of me, Peggy, please,”_ Angie mocked. “You already have a valentine, take your hands off of mine, jackass.”

Steve and James looked at each other simultaneously, freezing on their spots. “Okay,” Steve said slowly, exchanging a meaningful look with Barnes, and a mutual understanding passed through them.

He was totally _not_ prepared to have Barnes’ hands brushing his skin.

Barnes took the lotion bottle, and was about to squeeze the sunscreen into his hands, but a shadow stopped his actions.

“Cannonball!” Stark yelled, giving Steve a good shove into the jacuzzi. Steve had no time to fight back, he was already on the water when Tony let go of him.

Steve emerged, the water weighing his clothes down. His shirt was stuck to his chest, marking every line of his lean figure. “Oh my God, Stark! You bastard!” Steve barked. He grabbed the hem of his shirt and dragged it over his head and off of his body.

“STEVE, MY BOY!” Scott threw himself on Steve with arms open, almost drowning him.

“Scott, you’re not small!”

“You haven’t seen anything yet, baby,” he winked.

“Boys,” Maria called angrily, “stop splashing me!”

“Maria, you’re next” Tony warned.

“Don’t you dare or I’ll rip off your balls, Stark.”

Steve glared at James standing beside the jacuzzi. Barnes didn’t meet his eyes, though. His gaze was focused on his torso as if hypnotized by it.

Steve smirked, a devious flame playing inside his eyes. He spun the shirt on his right hand before throwing it at James’ direction without any kind of warning. The fabric met Barnes’ skin, soaking him instantly.

“Your turn, jerk,” Steve called, pushing his hair away from his face.

Barnes arched his brows, smirking and shaking his head. “No way.”

“Oh, yes way.” Steve snagged Barnes by his shirt, pulling him into the water quickly. Barnes had no time to react and he was already soaked and on top of Steve’s body. He clutched his hands on Steve’s arms, emerging and gasping for air, his face so close to Steve’s, that eyed him with a teasing smile on his lips, daring James to do something about it.

“Son of a bitch,” Barnes muttered, unable to contain his own laugh. He tried to push Steve down to the water, but Steve held his waist tight, automatically pulling their bodies closer. “Is that your best attempt to make someone wet for you?”

“Lovebirds, stop making out. It’s instagram time! Let’s wet some panties” Stark announced, taking his phone up into an appropriated selfie angle. “Squeeze in, everybody!”

“Sit on my lap,” Barnes ordered, voice low.

“Wh-” There were too many people in the jacuzzi, and through the screen Steve could see that they wouldn’t fit standing side to side, but _sit on Barnes’ lap was too much_. “No!”

“Yes.”

“Hurry, suckers!” Tony thundered.

Barnes pushed himself toward Steve, ending the discussion. He felt the weight of the other man’s body on top of his crotch, suddenly making his breath hitch. _Fuck,_ thought Steve as he automatically spreaded his legs so Barnes could adjust himself. His hips moving on top of Steve’s groin was fully arousing, making shivers run down his spine.

“Everybody say: Tony’s jacuzzi!”

After the picture was taken, James turned to meet Steve’s eyes and blushed face, still sitting on top of him. “Do you want help loosening up?” he whispered near Steve’s ear, “Because, you know, you seem a little _tense_.”

 

@TonyStark: Chillin’ with my boys and girls in my jacuzzi... http://t.co/j1DTn69

@TonyBareAss in reply to @TonyStark: What a bunch of cutiepies! Stark’s babies are growing so fast.

@StarkStar in reply to @TonyStark: Oh I see what you did there, Rogers...

@SteveCapsicle in reply to @TonyStark: STEVE ROGERS’ ORGASM FACE STRIKES AGAIN

 

To Steve’s surprise, Barnes was getting along quite well with his friends. At some point, that Steve may have missed, James and the others found a lot of things in common, and he started to loosen up. Mostly with Angie, Steve noticed.

_Guess smartasses like to stick around with other smartasses._

After the picture Stark took for his instagram, James made sure to tease Steve about his hard-on as much as he could.

“Guys, Steve looks like a dying whale in this picture,” Clint said chuckling.

“No, I don’t!” Steve protested.

“Looks like he’s moaning,” Stark corrected, ignoring him entirely.

“How would you know that?”

“I do my research.”

“Hey, Steve, don’t be so uptight,” Scott patted Steve on the shoulder, “I think tight would work just fine for your boy.”

Steve scowled, crossing his arms, and that was when an already wasted Barnes laid a hand on his leg and said, “Rogers, it’s a joke, not a dick”, he smirked teasingly, “don’t take it so hard.”

It was not Steve’s fault he had a boner. He just hadn’t had someone sitting in his lap for _so long_. Too long.

 _That was it_ , Steve tried to convince himself. He waited a bit longer in the jacuzzi than everyone else before being one hundred percent convinced that it was safe to step out of it without dragging down his dignity.

The group kept on drinking, a fact that led to a session of embarrassing questions Steve would very much like to forget. They had to lie about subjects from how they met to if they were open to the possibility of a threesome — _damn Clint_ — and who, out of the two of them, gave the best blowjobs.

“How the hell am I supposed to know that?” Steve answered it trying to sound casual, but the reddish tone of the blush in his cheeks gave him away instantly. “It’s not like a have any reference.”

“I volunteer to be the judge,” Tony snapped. Everybody looked at him, and Stark felt a look of narrowing eyes burning his skin. “What? I’m being altruistic here. Trying to help some friends with a scientific inquiry, geez.”

Tony’s jacuzzi was just the warm-up for the night. When Steve and James got back to their suite, it was already dark and they were still a bit drunk.

“Do you wanna go first?” Barnes asked casually, picking his towel.

“No, go ahead,” Steve replied trying not to look too much to James’ flushed cheeks, hair tied back and wet shirt sticking to his figure. Barnes couldn’t think Steve thought he was attractive or something.

Even though that was _exactly_ what Steve was thinking.

He couldn’t take his eyes off Barnes.

Barnes shrugged and headed to the bathroom, taking off his shirt in the middle of the hallway, Steve’s eyes trailed after the movement of his back muscles. _God, that’s not fair._ That simple attraction was becoming dangerous and Steve was starting to wonder what he wouldn’t do to bend Barnes over the nearest furniture right there.

 _Oh fuck,_ he thought, _damn Angie and her right assumptions._

When he came out, he was wearing nothing but the towel around his waist. Steve was suddenly self-conscious of his body language and tried hard not to look at his direction, but he failed miserably when he saw a shade of red ink on Barnes’ skin.

“I didn’t know you had a tattoo,” Steve said.

Steve felt Barnes tensing up, he dragged his hand over the red star on his shoulder, covering it. “Yeah, I usually hide it with makeup.”

“Why?”

Barnes blinked and his mouth twitched like he was fighting against his body language. He turned his back to Steve and shrugged. “Youthful mistake.”

Something in his tone of voice was telling Steve that it was not what he said, but he felt like the topic ended there. Steve just hurried to the shower. He picked one set of clothes Peggy had prepared for him, and it turned out she was right, he looked damn good on that wine ¾ sleeve t-shirt.

“Hey, do you have any idea how Stark got my number?” Barnes asked, leaning against the doorjamb.

“No, why?”

“He just sent me a picture of Clint and Scott twerking on top of a bar counter and said he was waiting for us at ‘Hysteria Lounge’.”

“I have a feeling someone’s gonna end the night throwing up his guts.” Steve finished brushing his hair and turned to Barnes, who was dressed in jeans, plain white shirt and a leather jacket. He was so gorgeous, he could look hot even dressed in a sexy police officer costume. _Well,_ Steve pondered, _especially in a sexy police officer costume._ Or a fireman, or a doctor or whatever.

Or dressed in nothing.

“Do you think we should call Natasha?”

The suite doorbell rang and Barnes went to open it. He came back with Natasha after him. “I think this answers your question.”

Romanoff was wearing a tight black dress that was favoring her breasts _a lot_. “Mr. Rogers, my face is up here,” she said naturally with her expert-in-body-language-and-couple-therapist tone of voice. “Are you guys ready?”

“Are you monitoring us tonight?” Steve inquired. She didn’t look like she was going to monitor shit.

“Are you kidding? This is my recess,” Natasha rolled her eyes, “tonight I’m your drinking buddy. Let’s go.”

They followed Natasha to the elevator and headed to the so-called Hysteria Lounge. It was a huge lounge with black lights, colored with blue and purple, a dance floor surrounded by couches and small tables, a large bar and a DJ stage. The hall was already full of people and the pop music was drumming from the speakers. People were moving their bodies with the rhythm and Steve could feel the beat of the music reverberating in his bones.

Steve’s eyes searched the place, looking for any traces of Stark and found his group of closest friends on the biggest table of the place, special reservation. So ‘Tony-ish’, as Peggy would say.

“Hands,” Barnes warned when they got closer. They linked their fingers quickly.

“There’s the couple of the year!” Clint yelled.

“And who’s the beautiful lady?” Stark asked with his best attempt of a sensual smile.

“Everyone, this is our friend Natasha,” Steve clarified pointing at the guys, “Natasha, this is everyone. Peggy and Angie there, Maria and Scott, Sam, Clint, and Tony.”

“Can I buy you a drink?” Stark stepped closer to Natasha, one hand on his pocket and the other holding a glass of something red. “If you’re interested later, I have a presidential suite on the fifth floor-”

“I know, I made your reservations myself,” Natasha informed him uninterestedly. “Do you have tequila?” she asked turning to Sam, completely ignoring Tony’s presence.

 _I like her better every day,_ Steve though, amused.

“We’re actually starting a drinking contest right now,” Clint replied.

“I’m in,” Romanoff stated, picking a shot glass.

Stark seemed disconcerted for a moment. “Don’t you think tequila is too strong for a lady like you?”

“Wanna bet?” Natasha challenged.

“Steve and James, are you guys in?” Scott asked, offering the shots.

“Yeah, count me in,” James agreed instantly. Steve just shrugged and picked a shot.

“On three,” Maria announced, the judge. “One… two…”

“GO!” Clint turned the glass on his mouth, followed by Peggy, Scott, Natasha, Barnes, Steve, Angie and Stark.

Stark and Scott got out on the fourth one, followed by Angie and Steve on the sixth shot. Peggy resisted to the seventh and Barnes to the eighth. Clint and Natasha continued until the tenth, when he spat and she won.

“How’s that _even_ possible?!” Stark asked incredulously.

“I’m Russian,” Natasha winked in reply, answering everything.

“Listen,” Stark started, approaching sensually, “if you ever want to stick together or something...”

“You’d be the last person I’d call. After the police.”

“Woah,” Scott boomed and Clint together. “Woman, you are slick!”

Everybody kept on drinking and talking about random topics while the night passed by. Steve used to have a good resistance to alcohol, but maybe Barnes didn’t, because he got loose and wasted very quickly, and the shots he kept drinking probably weren’t helping. His body kept bumping softly on Steve’s, which Steve couldn’t tell if it was purposeful or not, but he didn’t want it to stop.

“WHO WANTS TO DANCE?” Angie suddenly jumped from her seat, grabbing Peggy’s hand.

“I do,” James replied almost instantly. Peggy and Angie turned to Steve  at the same time.

“Sorry, not drunk enough to dance,” Steve waved his hand dismissively.

“You sure you’re gonna let your boy with us?”

“I trust you girls,” Steve shrugged. “I don’t trust Stark for an instance.”

“You may regret that later,” Peggy smirked, embracing Barnes’ figure by the waist and taking him to the dance floor along with Angie.

Steve laughed it off, after all, there was nothing for him to worry about. Those were his friends, his lesbian friends. And Barnes wasn’t even his real boyfriend. He shouldn’t worry. Not at all.

The rest of the group resumed their conversations, but Steve wasn’t paying that much attention to it. He started to look around, watching the mass of people dancing simultaneously. Not because he was missing them, he was just bored. That’s it.

From the corner of his eye, Steve noticed Sam tuning off the talk around them, studying Rogers’ moves. Sam slid in the booth, getting closer to Steve’s spot. He projected his body to the reach of Rogers’ left ear. “You alright, buddy?” He patted him on the back.

“Yeah, why?”

“I just wanted to make sure that the contract’s not messing with your head.” Sam shrugged.

“What? How do you know there’s-” Steve lowered his voice, looking around quickly, “a contract?” Steve inquired, suddenly alarmed.

“Dude, I’m your lawyer. I always know.” Sam rolled his eyes at him. “ _Always._ ”

Steve widened his eyes, action that entailed Sam’s laughter. “And the fact that I have to supervise every document you sign helps too, but that’s just one of my ways.” He finished with a blink. “And besides, I’m your friend. Count on me if you need anything.”

Steve smiled, thankful for having support from a friend at this fucked up mess he was thrown into. _Fake_ _relationship_ , _great idea, Steve_.

And then he spotted the three of them. Dancing wildly, Barnes in the middle of the two women like the filling of a sandwich. A really tight sandwich, considering the closeness of their bodies.

They were dancing in a sensual manner, Barnes’ right hand grasping the hair strands on Peggy’s nape, behind him. Angie was at the front, her waist gripped by James’ left hand, moving her buttocks right onto his lap. They were all grinding their hips against each other’s and synchronously, up and down, side to side. Their moves were so involving, so hot Steve could feel his groin twitching.

“Apparently, a threesome _is_ gonna happen,” Stark said, elbowing Steve, “just not including us.”

“Yeah, I remember something about no-dicks policy,” Clint remarked, bitterly.

“Shut up, guys.” Steve got up jerkily, flustered.

He didn’t know exactly what he was feeling, but the burning sensation at the pit of his stomach was aching, which made him restless. An agonizing sentiment spreading through his chest.

Before noticing it, his legs were taking him to them, eyes glued to Barnes. James’ eyes were closed, Steve noticed, a pleased expression consuming his features. His lips were parted and his neck was completely exposed due to his head leaning on Peggy’s shoulders.

 _Fuck, that’s hot._ That was more than Steve could take.

Angie drew Steve in, tracing his hands on her hips where his fingers bumped with James’, who opened his eyes and stared at Steve with that fucking obscene smile. Those fucking obscene parted lips subtly twisted in a smirk. Steve’s body started moving along with Angie’s rhythm, still facing Barnes and slowly grinding. The tension between them was palpable.

Then Angie discreetly slid away, shortening the space between Steve and James. And that was it. Steve’s hands went straight to Barnes’ hips, grabbing hard like he had no time to waste. After all, they were drunk tonight, and the next morning they’d be sober. That changed everything.

One of Barnes’ hands were on his chest, the other one gripping his nape. Barnes led his mouth to Steve’s neck, brushing his lips and tracing a path, reaching up to his earlobe. A violent wave of shivers hit Steve, and he let out moans which went unheard with the loud music. He gripped Barnes’ skin under his shirt. Their hips were moving together, Steve was sure Barnes could feel his arousal.

Barnes mouth stopped, his face got closer to Steve’s to the point Steve could feel his breath, fast and warm. His fingers moved smoothly to Steve’s chin, sliding to the line of Steve’s jaw and passing by his lower lip. Steve looked up, their foreheads touched.

That look. That mouth.

And they were suddenly kissing, breathlessly, Barnes’ gripping his neck and Steve’s gasping into his mouth. The knowing that everyone was watching made things a lot hotter. The warmth, their lips moving against each other’s, sucking and licking. How could that jerk kiss so well? Would Steve ever be able to stop? He didn’t want to.

They stayed like this until both ran out of air. They brushed their noses smoothly moving apart. Barnes’ lips were so red and wet, and Steve knew he was doomed.

He was about to say something — probably stupid, considering being intoxicated — when Barnes leaned toward his ear and said, “very clever, Rogers, the photographer is right behind you,” he softly kissed Steve’s cheek.

 _Right_. _The_ _photographer_. Steve stepped away, trying his best to act cool with that. _Duh_. _What were you thinking, stupid?_ That was what they were doing, right? Pretending.

He breathed deeply and tried to smile like _yeah, buddy, good job,_ then he saw Angie and Peggy coming closer.

“We are going back to the table,” Peggy informed, “are you guys coming?”

“Yeah,” Barnes replied, exchanging glances with Steve and following the girls.

Steve needed a drink. He sure needed to forget what happened and the only comfort in all this was remembering he was drunk, and the next morning, again, he would be sober. And he wouldn’t remember a thing, hopefully.

 


	5. TAKE FIVE

**Saturday, July 04** ** th ** **, 2015**

 

“Fellas, it’s already past midnight and that means our Stevie’s birthday already started!” Scott said.

“I’ll drink to that,” Stark raised his glass and everybody cheered after him, kissing and hugging Steve. Even Barnes gave him a hug. A quick one.

Steve put his best efforts into trying to enjoy the party without losing himself in the memory of the recent kiss he shared with Barnes. _And what a kiss_. He kept forcing his mind to focus on Maria’s words, or on Sam’s playfulness, but his lips seemed to pulse latently from the sensation of Barnes’ lips pressing against his. His neck was still warm from Barnes’ touch, his skin almost scratching, missing the feeling of being caressed.

 _God, I need to get laid_. Steve concluded. If just a simple kiss — and a fake one — got him that needy and hyped up, he had it _bad_.

Barnes got up from the couch and stepped in front of Steve, leaning on his direction and putting one hand on Steve’s leg as support. “Clint and I are going to get some drinks, do you want something?” Barnes’ voice was husky and his reddish lips were very close to Steve’s mouth, but he couldn’t quite divide his attention between Barnes’ fingers sliding in the middle of his thigh and what he was saying.

And there was the fact that Barnes was completely wasted.

Suddenly Natasha shoved past Barnes, subtly pushing his back, and Barnes, who was already out of his own balance, fell on top of Steve, hands grabbing the couch back on each side of Steve’s head, involuntary — or not — straddling Steve’s lap. Steve had to use all his self-control to resist gripping Barnes’ hip and thrusting.  

 _That redheaded manipulator_ _must be testing my willpower._  

“God, sorry,” Barnes said near his ear, laughing drunkenly. _Shit._ He was adorable. And fuckable. “Gonna bring some beers, be right back,” he got up and left.

When he was out of sight, Angie took the seat next to him, laying her head on his shoulder. She was totally wasted.

“I think I’m calling it a night,” she said with a drunk smile on her face.

“Yeah, I think I’ll just wait for Barnes to come back and we’re leaving too.”

“Speaking of that,” Angie widened her eyes, “what was _that_ kiss?”

Steve rolled his eyes, blushing. “That was just- there was a photographer behind us, it was nothing.”

“Yeah, I see you trying to convince yourself, _great_ job.” Peggy approached and Angie got up quickly. “G’night, birthday boy.”

“Bye, ladies,” Steve waved.

After that, his eyes started searching for Barnes again. He found him sitting right by Clint’s side, at the bar table. They were laughing, bodies close and leaned into each other’s direction. Steve could feel the gaze they shared, like an inside joke was floating between them. Clint’s hand was annoyingly gripping Barnes’ forearm, while he leaned even closer to whisper something to Barnes’ ear, fighting to be heard over the loud music in the room. Steve saw Clint’s lips brushing ever so lightly against Barnes’ earlobe, and that took him to the edge.

Clint grasped Barnes hand, leading him to the dance floor once more.

 _First Peggy and Angie, now Clint,_ Steve thought, riled up.  

Barnes laughed, letting himself loose, and followed. A sensual song started to stream through the speakers, and he smiled devilish, before grabbing Clint’s hands, guiding them through his own torso.

The action seemed to ignite something inside Clint, who reacted by settling his hands on Barnes’ hips. Barnes seemed to like this, considering how he reacted throwing his hands over Clint’s shoulders, moving in sync with the beat.

Steve’s hands tightened into closed fists, his sight directed to them.

He wasn’t jealous. He was _pissed_. The party was filled with high social status people, influential people. He wouldn’t just sit there and watch his friend with his so-called boyfriend move against each other like they were in the middle of some kind of mating dance.

When Steve was about to get up, Clint stopped, leaning on Barnes’ ear and whispering something that made both of them return from the dance floor. Clint was still holding Barnes by the waist. Steve tried to relax, he really tried.

“Steve,” Clint said when they arrived, taking Barnes’ arm off his shoulders, “I think you need to take a better care of your boyfriend here. He is so legless.”

“I’m perfectly fine,” Barnes complained drunkenly, “you’re just saying that to stop dancing with me.”

“You have your boyfriend here to dance with,” Clint replied.

 _“_ My _boyfriend_ doesn’t like me-”

“Okay, buddy, time to go.” Steve widened his eyes, embracing Barnes by the waist quickly, leading him out of the room before he said something they’d both regret later.

 

GOSSIP: _OMG! Steve Rogers’ and boyfriend caught in the middle of hot_ _make-out session at private nightclub! These boys are on fire! Check out t_ _he pics here._

“Here you go, Barnes.” Steve opened the door and helped him take off his leather jacket. “Now go-”

Steve was interrupted by a nauseous Barnes, rushing towards the bathroom. Shortly, a symphony of disgusting sounds reverberated through the room.

He approached the small washroom, only to find a fragile version of Barnes bent over the toilet, puking up his guts. He was trying to keep his long hair away from his face, failing miserably. Steve stepped inside the bathroom, taking his hair off his face, grabbing it into a tight ponytail, without saying a word.

“What are you, made of steel?” Barnes asked with a rough tone of voice.

“No,” Steve chuckled, “I’m Captain America.”

Barnes gave Steve a censured look. “You drank the same as I did and you’re not even tipsy.”

“I _am_ tipsy,” Steve corrected.

“Yeah, I can see you throwing up all over the floor and losing control of yourself,” Barnes said ironically.

“I pretty much lost control tonight.” His filter was so low if Barnes kept asking him, he’d probably tell everything he was thinking.

Barnes made another of that struggling sounds and turned again, Steve wrinkled his nose. When it seemed like Barnes reached the bottom of his stomach, both of them were already seated on the cold white tiles of the bathroom. Barnes was pale, like someone had sucked his soul out of him. Steve could see he was tired too.

Barnes reached the faucet of the bathtub, opening, and pushed himself up, kicking his shoes.

“Wait. Wait, Barnes,” Steve warned.

 _“Relaaax.”_ Barnes rolled his eyes, the head following the movement. “Not gonna take my clothes off.”

 _That_ was precisely the problem.

Barnes got in the tub, soaking all his clothes with not a care in the world. He just laid there and let his head drop, closing his eyes while the hot water fell on him. Al least the warmth seemed to be giving back the color of his skin.

“And stop calling me that,” he said out of the blue.

“What, Barnes?” Steve frowned. “What the hell am I supposed to call you?”

He gave Steve a dirty look, like the answer was neither that, but was still obvious. Which wasn’t.

“Bucky,” he mumbled.

Steve almost didn’t get what he said. “Bu what?”

“Bucky. Call me Bucky.”

 _What, is this some kind of dog’s name?_ Steve crossed his arms. Well, at least now he could call him something besides jerk.

Steve picked Barnes’ towel and put it next to the tub. “Gonna get you some water and an advil.”

“I have pills in my bag,” Barnes — _Bucky_ — offered. “Unlike you, I’m organized.”

Steve frowned, turning to him again. “Are you really complaining about my organization?”

“I’m complaining about the dirty dishes you always left in the sink overnight.”

Steve wished he had a smart reply to that, but he just laughed. He laughed at how cute Bucky was deep inside, when his filter was low and he could speak his mind.

So he went to the main room and opened Bucky’s luggage, finding it surprisingly organized as Bucky had said. All his clothing was folded and he had a special tiny bag for his medicine.

When Steve returned to the bedroom, he found Bucky curled up in a baby blue colored towel, tucking its ends. His shoulders were collapsed, as in attempt to make himself smaller. Steve could see that he felt vulnerable. That thought made Steve’s heart ache, and maybe that’s the reason why he so eagerly followed Bucky into room.

Bucky dropped the towel, grabbing the clasp of his belt. He started to struggle with its closure, his wet oversized shirt weighing it down, glued to it.

“Here, pal, let me help you out.” Steve stepped in, setting the glass of water and pills on the nightstand. He grabbed the hem of Bucky’s shirt in one move, before the black-haired one had any chance to protest otherwise.

“You’re taking care of me now, baby?” Bucky lowered his eyes, holding his arms up and facilitating Steve to take his shirt off.

“Shut up.” Steve laughed quietly, trying to dismiss the nervousness.

He threw the shirt on the ground. “Thanks,” Bucky mumbled while still looking down, finally able to loosen his belt.

Steve nodded and turned his back to him. He tried to convince himself he didn’t have reasons to be disconcerted. He wasn’t taking advantage from an intoxicated man by looking at his naked torso, but that affirmation didn’t stop the reddish tone to spread through his cheeks.

He searched again in Bucky’s luggage for some kind of sleeping clothes, but failed to find them. He didn’t want to mess the clothes up either. When he turned to Bucky again, he stopped suddenly at the doorstep.

Bucky was only in his wet boxer-briefs, sitting at the edge of the bed. His eyes were fixed on his hands, which rested on top of this thighs. But the look of his face was empty. He was there — naked. Figuratively and almost physically. Steve couldn’t bring himself to bother him with something so trivial as clothes.

So, instead, he headed to his own baggage. He grabbed two of his old-but-comfortable t-shirts and sweatpants, putting both sets by Bucky’s side in the bed.

“Choose.” He looked Bucky in the eyes, dead serious. But his gaze was soft, almost endearing. “Dry clothes so you don’t get cold.”

Bucky looked up, perplexed for a moment. But them he spotted the two pajamas. One was a plain white top with gray sweatpants. The other was a promotional product from his movies, a blue t-shirt with the Captain America’s shield printed on it and black pants.

Bucky faced Steve for a couple of seconds, expressionless, then smiled weakly, taking the Captain America’s one, dressing without commenting on his decision.

Steve picked up all Bucky’s wet clothes from the ground as well as his towel and put it all together in a wet clothing ball. He turned down the light and waited for Bucky to lay down. Then, suddenly, something occurred to him.

“You really think I don’t like you?” he blurted out.

“What?”

“You said something about me not liking you to Clint. What makes you think that?”

Bucky yawned. “I don’t think I give you a lot of reasons to do otherwise.”

He thought for a moment. “Yeah, you don’t.” Steve concluded. “You really pissed me off on the first couple weeks.”

“And yet you’re still kind.”

There was a long period of silence, when Bucky’s words still reverberated inside Steve’s head. He didn’t know how to answer. After a while he opened his mouth, ready to say something... anything.

But Steve heard a soft sigh coming from Bucky’s figure, which was facing the wall. He was already asleep. Steve dressed out of his own party clothes, putting on the plain white t-shirt and the sweatpants Bucky didn’t pick. He smiled, looking at Bucky’s back dressed in Steve’s Cap clothes.

He didn’t want this night to end.

 

HOLY HOLLYWOOD: _OMG! Tony Stark is caught on camera giving_ _old_ _man_ _Steve Rogers a lap dance on board a cruise._

Steve woke up to the muffled sounds. Again. But the difference is that this time they weren’t in the other side of the hallway, they were right beside him. And it wasn’t just muffled sounds, but whimpers while taking in short, sudden breaths, moans interspersed with meaningless words.

“No-” he mumbled, face buried in his pillow. “ _Please_ , I don’t want to- not again, no-”

Bucky was curled up on the bed, his body was trembling, clearly tensed up, the sheets between the grip of his hands.

Oh, God. That couldn’t be happening.

The last time Steve tried to do something, they ended up not speaking for days. But he couldn’t just stand there and let Bucky suffer in his dreams like that, it was cruel. He seemed to be in so much pain.

Steve stretched his arm, his hand reaching unsurely for Bucky’s shoulder. “James, wake-” But then he froze in the middle of the action. Bucky started sobbing, retracting his whole shape even more. He wouldn’t commit the same mistake.

All of his instincts were telling him to hold Bucky, like something between his body temperature and comfort would somehow relieve Bucky’s pain. But he couldn’t. He didn’t have that kind intimacy with Bucky, even if for the first time in weeks they had finally shared real body contact and a nickname, that could be disregarded because Bucky had been drunk.

And there was Bucky right beside him. Steve’s instincts could make everything worse. _Oh, fuck it._

So Steve held Bucky. Tightly.

“It’s okay, James,” he embraced Bucky’s figure and pulled him in, leaning on his neck and mumbling comforting words, very quietly and soft. “It’s me, you’re fine, everything’s okay. Nobody’s gonna do anything you don’t want to.”

Steve doesn’t know how long he kept whispering to Bucky. Eventually, he felt Bucky’s breath and heart beat get slower and slower, until his body stopped trembling and crying. He couldn’t tell if he saw Bucky blinking and relaxing to his touch or if it was a dream, but it felt good anyway and they kept tangled until morning.

Morning, though, was a problem.

When he opened his eyes, he was alone and occupying all Bucky’s limited space of the bed, even laying on his pillow. Steve looked around, but there was no sign of the other man, although bed was still warmed up. Steve closed his eyes again, relieved, considering the ardor that was consuming him from the inside out, not to mention his morning wood.

But that didn’t last long.

Steve heard the sink’s water flowing, and less than a minute after that, Bucky was leaning on the door frame, staring straight at Steve. Bucky’s pants were loose on his waist, and the combination of that morning hair and pouty crimson lips were driving Steve crazy.

“Hey,” Steve said quietly. _Fuck_ , he got self-conscious about still being on Bucky’s side of bed. And his morning wood. Fucking morning wood.

Bucky frowned. “Why were you holding me?”

Steve froze.

 _Great job, Steve_. _You messed up everything again._

He slowly sat up on bed. “I’m sorry I shouldn’t-” he closed his eyes, breathing out, “you had a nightmare, just tried to help.”

Bucky lowered his head, staring at his feet. He sighed. “Sorry ‘bout that.”

Steve tilted his head, a confusion expression taking over his features. “Why are you apologizing?”

Bucky’s gaze was fixed on the floor, embarrassment flushing through him. He opened his mouth to answer, but Steve would never know what he was meant to say, once Bucky was interrupted by the ring of the suite’s doorbell. The sound seemed to ignite something inside the black-haired man, who willingly — _too_ much willingly, almost relieved, Steve noticed — went to get the door.

“I’m here deliver Mr. Rogers’ gifts and congratulations from his closest friends and admirers,” Steve heard a professional voice coming from the door.

“Oh, right. This way.” Bucky guided the man inside the room. _Damn it_.

Steve rushed at the hem of his shirt, taking off of his body quickly. Then he fluffed the two pillows in the bed, adjusting himself in the middle of it, in a just-had-sex way, he hoped.

A well-dressed man entered the suite, pushing a room service cart full of gifts. Steve noticed him glancing at the bedroom’s direction briefly, catching the view of Rogers comfortably laying back against the mattress, arms crossed at the back of his head. Steve caught his glare and replied the action with a dirty smirk.

The employee recomposed himself promptly, pretending that he didn’t invade their privacy. He left the room, Bucky following him to close the door.

“What are you doing, man?” Bucky frowned, almost laughing at him.

“Hm... What? Pretending.” Steve rolled his eyes. “I don’t know what performance academy you graduated as a freaking _actor_ , but we need to make some pretenses of an active love life.”

Bucky snorted, dismissively. He walked to the bedside, throwing his whole weight on it and burying his face on the pillow, letting a huffed moan escape.

“You alright?”

Bucky groaned in reply, turning his face to Steve a moment after. “I’m hungover.”

“Woah,” Steve said in a dead tone of voice, “I can’t even imagine why.”

“I may be wrong, but I guess it has to do with my wet clothes on the bathroom floor.”

“Wait, you don’t remember shit from last night?”

Bucky wrinkled his nose, a deadly cute expression to Steve. “Just some… things…” he moaned again. _God, stop moaning_. “My head is killing me.”

“Advil and water on your left.”

“Thanks.” Bucky took some pills and covered himself with the blanket.

Steve got up and went to the service room cart. It was full of stuff like flowers and cake-shape letters, boxes sized from tiny to big decorated with laces. He reached the first high class store bag with a tiny card written “because we know you can’t get rid of your old ones; with much love, Peggy and Angie”. He took a new black leather pants from the bag, and they were amazing. Sam gave him collector’s edition of the first Captain America’s comics, and there was a stylish watch from Scott.

In the middle of the cart was a baby pink cake full of glitter with “Happy Birthday Princess” written on with, along with a picture of Elsa. Right beside it, a card with the reading inscriptions “with my best regards, Tony Stark.”

Fury left him a bouquet of blue flowers, and Maria an expensive cologne. A box of fancy chocolates for Valentine’s day was obviously _so_ Clint. There was also a gift basket with bottles of wine, cheeses and aphrodisiac flavored truffles, a weird romantic aura considering the pair of glasses that came together. That was the worst subtle hint he’d ever got from Romanoff.

“They’re the worst.” Steve laughed going through the gifts, amusement written on his features.

“They seem like good friends,” Bucky murmured, face still deep-buried into his pillow.

“Yeah, they are.” He smiled, then turned to the bed’s direction. “Now get your ass up.”

“Make me,” Bucky replied, not even moving from his spot.

 

TRENDING TOPICS: _#HappyBirthdaySteveRogers #FourthOfJuly_

After breakfast, the group decided to go to the deck. Stark and Maria were sunbathing on chaise lounges. Peggy and Angie were sitting together at the pool’s edge, legs in the water. Steve and Bucky were sitting side by side at one large bean bag sofa under a sunshade with Natasha sitting across from them, working with on a laptop. Sam and Clint were in the pool, splashing water everywhere.

“Are you guys vampires or something? Why are you hiding from the sun?” Sam called.

“Not in the mood for a skin cancer, thanks” Steve replied, wrinkling his nose.

“What’s the point of being in a cruise if you don’t enjoy the best thing on it?” Clint questioned.

“What’s the point of using a pool on a cruise when you’re surrounded by the whole ocean?” Bucky grumpily returned the inquisition, eyes closed and head resting on the back of the seat.

 _“Burn!_ ” Angie, Maria and Scott boomed in unison, making curious eyes turn at their direction.

“Woah, sassy boy.” Stark winked at Bucky. “My favorite type.”

Bucky groaned, dismissing his comment.

“And what ‘bout you, doll? Why aren’t you putting this beautiful body on display?” Tony turned to Natasha, unaffected.

“This beautiful body here is working, Stark,” she replied, not even taking her eyes off the screen in front of her. “Not gonna happen.”

“Geez, tough crowd,” Tony complained, standing up. “I don’t need this, you know, I’m Tony freaking Stark. Imma get someone who’ll correctly appreciate the opportunity of getting inside my pants,” he grumbled at their way, before walking out.

Steve felt Bucky sighing heavily by his side. He was curling up and trying to find a comfortable position to lay, which was impossible since that couch was made for one person or a very close couple.

“Seems like someone got down and dirty last night,” Clint said with a dirty smile.

“What was your first hint? Steve’s Cap shirt or James’ drained face?” Angie asked turning to Clint with an arched eyebrow. Natasha quickly looked up and winked at Steve at that point.

“I guess now we know who’s the bottom,” Scott joked, turning to Steve instantly, “just kiddin’, buddy. We know it’s you.”

“In my defense, I top,” Steve replied, “Peggy confirms it.”

Everybody turned to Peggy, waiting for her reaction. “Actually,” Peggy gave a crooked smile, “I was the top, mate.”

“Dude, she just _ended_ you.” Clint splashed water on Steve’s direction, who just rolled his eyes at him.

Bucky’s head suddenly slipped towards Steve and rested on his shoulder. He snuggled on him almost unconsciously, which made Steve feel goosebumps through his body. Steve could smell the conditioner in Bucky’s soft hair, the warmth of his body and his vulnerability at that moment. Bucky was so tired he didn’t even care that he was leaning on Steve.

The conversation kept on going, the teasing content of if never dropping. Steve eventually felt Bucky’s head weighing down on his shoulder. He moved, trying to adjust himself on the seat, action that resulted on Bucky’s head slipping and settling on his collarbone. The position was clearly uncomfortable for both of them, so Steve took his head with both hands mindlessly, laying it on top of thighs.

Bucky let a pleasing moan escape through his lips, snuggling in reply. _God..._ Steve held his breath. _Not now, Steve._ The little gesture spread a weird sensation of warmth in Steve’s chest. He looked down to Bucky and stroked some hair strands away from his eyes, wittingly or not caressing his face while doing it. He then got self-conscious about his action and stopped doing it altogether.

Bucky grunted sleepily, _cute as fuck_ , automatically taking Steve’s hand in midair and tangling his fingers back on his hair locks.

 _“God,_ this is so cute,” Natasha blurted out, catching Steve’s attention to her cellphone lifted, less than a second before she took a photo.

 

Steve Rogers posted a new photo 20 minutes ago

391,783 likes

@SteveRogers: Best birthday gift ever.

View all  152,347 comments

@AngelMartinelli: glad you finally stopped being our third wheel

@TonyStark: Is there any space for one more?

@JamesBarnesOfficial in reply to @TonyStark: No

 

 _“Fuck,_ best massage I ever had,” Angie groaned on their way out of the spa.

“Wait, _what_? I thought _I_ gave your favorite massages in the whole wide world,” Peggy complained, turning her head to Angie, a disbelieved expression printed on her face.

“Oh, _someone’s_ gonna sleep on the couch tonight,” Steve hummed teasingly.

The three of them were dressed in white robes, smelling likes roses and lilies. They had spent part of the afternoon on the sauna, followed by a body massage at the cruise spa, while Steve left a hungover Bucky sleeping at their suite.

“Oh, you’re the best in so many aspects, baby girl,” Angie replied, a dirty smirk playing on her lips.

“Yeah? Like what?”

“You know I love when your lips-”

 _“Okay_ , that’s me,” Steve announced as they passed in front of his suite’s door, rushing inside it before having to hear any other highly inappropriate comments.

Steve softly closed the door with a fading smile on his lips, he didn’t want to wake Bucky up yet, then threw the towel around his neck on the couch and started to get rid of his robe, until he entered the bedroom to find Bucky lying on his stomach. He was half-naked hugging a pillow. His back was bare, one leg bent which was making his ass look so big on that boxer-briefs.

That was too much to handle to Steve. He was almost ready to move on, when Bucky shifted on bed, turning around and catching Steve’s sight. That sleeping face of his was certainly death. “Hey.”

Steve got chills. “Hey,” he replied, resisting to the will of dressing up his robe again. That would be too obvious. “So, how you feeling?”

“Like a truck ran over me.” He yawned, rubbing his eyes. “But I’m better, I guess.”

“Okay. Fine. Well,” Steve breathed heavily, “guess I’m taking a shower.”

“Wait,” Bucky said before Steve goes to the washroom, “I have something for ya.” He sat on the edge of the bed and reached for a tiny box next the furniture.

“Hm... what?” Steve scowled. Bucky handled him the small rectangular box. “What’s that?”

“Open it.”

Steve unlaced the box and withdrew a red moleskine sketchbook with a black star in the middle of it, and right under that was a fancy golden pen looking very expensive. Steve widened his eyes, astonished that Bucky would even bother to buy him something.

“That’s for your drawings.”

“How did you know that...?”

“Well,” Bucky rolled his eyes, with a _teeny_ tiny smile on the corner of his lips, “maybe the box full of sketches you took out of my room and your weird habit of drawing on napkins gave me a hint.”

Steve wanted to say something, but he needed to stop smiling on first place. His hands fell down on both sides of his body and he bit his lower lip before quietly saying, “thank you, I love it.”

Bucky shrugged in reply and turned his look away.

“You really have a thing with stars,” Steve added.

Bucky burst into laughter. “Shut up.”

Steve watched while Bucky closed his eyes and laid back on bed. He took the cue to head to the bathroom and take a quick shower. He was already finished with the towel around his waist and shaving in front of the mirror when a Bucky’s figure approached the door.

“Natasha sent me a message asking if we’re ready,” he announced, not looking at Steve at all. “And also to tell us she already picked specific clothes for each of us to use. It’s in the closet.”

“What clothes?” Steve frowned, washing his face and turning to Bucky.

“I don’t know, I was asleep.” Bucky shrugged, going back to room. Steve followed him, both heading to the shared closet.

“So, remind me again why do we have to dress up like this?” Steve complained, sighing while searching in the wardrobe for the clothes Natasha ordered to deliver at their suite.

“It’s seems like we’re gonna have a special celebration at the deck. We need to look nice for the pics.” He smirked. “Besides, you’re the birthday boy. You need to kill’em with those tight pants of yours,” he finished, winking at him.

_Don’t you dare blush, stupid cheeks._

Steve received a sky-blue shirt, khaki pants and a nice belt, while Bucky got jeans, dark-grey t-shirt and black jackets. Why did he look so damn good with dark clothing?

Bucky was already at the door when Steve finished dressing up. “You ready?” he asked, opening the suite’s door. Steve approached and Bucky suddenly reach out for his hand, like it was so casual, so natural to entwine their fingers like they were doing.

When they arrived at the cruise’s restaurant, the group was at the entry hall with crossed arms, even Natasha was there.

“And it’s us, the _women_ , who are stereotyped as always being late.” Angie rolled her eyes the second she spotted the two of them.

“We have no time for quickies, boys,” Maria said.

“That would explain James’ nest of a hair,” Tony concluded.

“You wish you had locks like these, pal,” Bucky replied as they arrived at their table.

Everybody picked their spots and the waiter came fast, taking their orders quickly and Tony chose an expensive wine for the group.

“Guys, stop pulling their legs,” Clint cut off, “if I were Barnes, I wouldn’t resist Stevie here either.”

Steve arched his brows. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Bucky answered, catching Steve’s attention. He had a teasing expression on his face, narrowed eyes and a smirk on his lips.

Steve didn’t mean to get so obviously affected by that, but he did anyway. He just stayed there, startled, while everyone including Bucky started a new conversation while drinking their glasses of wine.

“…Right, Rogers?” Peggy giggled, turning her body to Steve’s direction.

Steve cleared his throat. “What’s right?”

“She was telling us how small and unsatisfying your dick is.” Angie smiled angelically, pulling her head into Steve’s visible crotch area.

Clint spilled his coke, trying to repress his laughter.

“Not true,” Stark said under his breath. Every pair of eyes turned to him. “Not that I know by experience, I’m just coming in defense for my friend Barnes here,” he added, patting Bucky shoulder. “He wouldn’t settle for a _small_ deal, I suppose.”

Bucky chuckled, exchanging gazes with Steve with the inside joke.

“I was just saying how I used to hate duck’s meat and you were the one who taught me how to appreciate it,” Peggy explained.

“Duck, dick. Tomato, tomatoe.” Angie shrugged.

“Taught her how to enjoy duck and how to hate dick,” Clint leaned at Tony’s ear, failing miserably to whisper it.

The night went on with teasing and celebrations, and Steve couldn’t be happier. These people were his family, even if it was a very wicked one.

They were about to ask for desserts when Bucky’s phone rang quietly. He excused himself when saw the name on the screen and left the table. Steve tried to focus on the conversation, but his mind couldn’t wrap itself around it anymore.

“Guys, it’s almost firework time!” Scott announced. “It’ll be at the front deck.”

The group got up from the table and headed to the front deck. Steve was the last one to stand up from his seat, following the others. As soon as he left their spot on the table, his head turned toward the direction of the exit. He couldn’t help himself but to search if a black-haired figure was anywhere close.

 _Stop looking out for him, asshole,_ Steve repressed his own thoughts. _He’s not your damn business._

So, Steve forced himself to walk away with the others. He wouldn’t let this weird and annoyingly cute stranger ruin his birthday night with his friends. Steve was in a freaking five stars’ cruise, for god’s sake. He should be having the time of his life.

But the fact is that he truly was Steve’s damn business and Steve’s mind was searching for any plausible reason to turn back and go after Bucky.

_Well, fuck it._

Steve’s legs dragged him to the opposite direction, the rational part of his brain unable to process. Well. He had a point. It was his boyfriend, fake-boyfriend, whatever, they needed to get together for the pictures and stuff. Steve _was_ being rational. Nobody in the group seemed to notice his absence and something inside was telling him that Bucky wouldn’t be talking on the phone in a place full of people, judging by his mysterious way.

 _There he is._ Steve felt a rush of relief spread through his body, which he immediately got rid of. Bucky wasn’t in danger or something. Steve didn’t have to worry about being called out on the speakers because “James was lost, looking for Mr. Rogers”. Bucky was a grown man.

“… I love you too. Bye.” Bucky suddenly turned to him like he felt his presence and arched his brows, lowering his phone and ending the call. “Hey, I was just about to go back inside.”

“It’s fine. We already left for the fireworks.” He shrugged, trying to sound unaffected by what he had heard. “Do you… wanna come?”

“Sure.” Bucky shrugged back, reaching out for Steve’s hand once again. Steve turned back at the restaurant’s direction, but the action was interrupted. “Actually, this way’s closer.” Bucky pointed out.

They arrived when the fireworks started, their group of friends nowhere to be found. Well, except for the photographer guy who seemed to be everywhere.

“Guys, look here!” Rumlow approached them, already adjusting the camera in front of his face. He took the first shoot. “Something more intimate perhaps?”

Steve was about to ask specifically what did he have in mind, when he felt Bucky’s arm wrapping around his waist, gripping firmly while pulling Steve closer to his own figure.

“Good, good,” Rumlow mumbled, adapting the lens once more. His face was half hidden by the camera’s structure, but Steve managed to capture lines of annoyance there. “Now, _more_ intimate.”

Steve gazed at Bucky, who instantly did the same. They exchanged a meaningful look, communicating wordlessly. Bucky shrugged, giving his consent to Steve’s silent question.

Steve turned his frame inside their embrace. Bucky’s hand lost its confidence and pressure on his waist, so Steve lifted his gaze to Bucky’s eyes, his left brow arched. Bucky gulped, eyes fixed on Steve’s lips.

He was uncomfortable, Steve presumed. And he got it, really. It was nice to fool around with a hot guy, of course, but it was a bit awkward to have to pretend being in love with someone you barely knew. It was acting, sure, but he understood how tiresome it could be to live a lie, like your own person was a character you couldn’t stop playing.  

And maybe that thought was what drove Steve to cup Bucky’s face, tracing his thumbs in circles on his cheeks. He leaned his body closer to Bucky, pressing against his lightly.

Bucky leaned back, resting his forehead onto Steve’s and settling his hands on Rogers’ waist, his hot breath tickling Steve’s face. He was so damn cute and hot, _so_ hot Steve couldn’t resist to the opportunity of kissing him. Even if it seemed to make Bucky uneasy, Steve couldn’t help himself but to enjoy the situation. It was his guilty pleasure.

So, he sealed his lips to Bucky’s. They were warm and soft, like Steve remembered from the last time, although he wasn’t sure if Bucky remembered the feeling of his mouth too. At least this time Steve could make sure he wouldn’t forget.

Bucky melted into his touch almost immediately — man, those were some damn good acting skills — tilting his head slightly to the left, as if in an attempt to fit in their mouths together even more. Of course, Steve couldn’t trust his fertile imagination.

The thing is, Bucky lips actually _tasted_ really good. It wasn’t like he ate something and the flavor stayed there. It was his own scent. And Bucky’s smell wasn’t helping Steve’s sanity in one bit, making the sensations even more overwhelming. The shape of his lips was so incredibly delicious Steve wanted to lick and bite it. To taste him, feel his tongue inside his own month. Oh God, that kind of touch wasn’t good for Steve’s health.

And then Bucky broke the kiss. Steve was astonished for a couple of seconds after being deprived from the touch, as if he lost his balance because of the sudden move. It was just a prolonged peck after all, they only locked lips. It could have passed in seconds or entire minutes, Steve wasn’t quite sure.

“Great job, boys,” Rumlow announced, a satisfied smile printed on his face as he lifted his figure from behind the camera. Steve turned his head to his direction, perplexed for a moment. _Oh, right._ It was a kiss for the shoot. It would look amazing as the tabloids’ front pages in the next morning. Steve Rogers kissing his boyfriend on his birthday, with fireworks exploding on the sky as a background. Obviously.

As Rumlow got away from them, Steve remembered Bucky was still there. He was gazing at the fireworks on the horizon, both hands on his pockets. Steve hurried up at Bucky’s side.

He felt like he needed to say something.

“About the-” Steve started, staring at the edge, “was it okay for you-”

Bucky nodded jerkily. “No- yeah, I mean, it’s fine.” He scowled. “It’s in the contract, right? The pictures.”

“Yeah, totally.” Steve sucked at lying. He puffed, rolling his eyes, sure that Bucky wouldn’t see it.

Bucky turned to him with a smirk on his lips. “Let’s do something fun. Come on.”

 

@TonyStark: CASINO TIME! #Gambler #LasVegasOnBoard

@TonyStark: Call me when strip poker starts @ClintBarton

@TonyStark: Why do I keep gambling on slot machines? I already have all the money I need #Playboy #YepThatsMe

@TonyStark: I never get tired of watching Rogers struggling his ass off on that teddy picker machine #GiveUpSteve

 

“Just freaking give up already, man,” Bucky muttered, standing with his arms crossed a couple of feet behind Steve. An amused smile was playing on the corner of his lips.

“Can’t,” Steve replied, focused on the machine.

“Why do you want this teddy bear so bad?” Bucky asked.

“It’s not about a teddy bear, it’s my fucking honor at stake here!” Steve whined, slapping the sides of the machine as if the action was suddenly going to make him win.

“Okay, pal, step aside,” Bucky dramatically stretched his arms out in front of him, clearly mocking Steve’s efforts.

“There’s no way you’re getting it. I’ve been trying for almost an hour but this crap-” Steve’s sentence was cut in the middle as he watched Bucky moving the claw through the machine. He just pressed the button and the claw grabbed a bear. “You piece of _shit_.”

Bucky turned his gaze at Steve and smiled, handling him the bear. “Here, Cap.” The bear was dressed in a fucking World War II military uniform. “What’s name gonna be?”

“Name a bear? How old are you, four?”

“Four? That’s not very creative of you, Rogers,” Bucky smirked, ignoring him completely. “What do you think about ‘Sargent B’?”

Steve puffed. “That’s ridiculous.”

“Sargent B it is then.” Steve rolled his eyes at Bucky, still holding the bear. He actually found really cute that Bucky would care about naming a toy, but Steve was the one trying to catch it in the first place. It was not childish. In that singular moment, it felt like they were more than strangers. And then Steve got self-conscious about staring at Bucky too long. “What you lookin’ at, punk?”

“Thanks,” Steve said quietly, “… Bucky.”

“Yeah,” Barnes shrugged, but Steve could sense he was trying to fight a smile over the mention of the nickname. “Hey, do you know where the guys are?”

“Gonna check my phone-” Steve unlocked his screen, “ _holy_ _shit_.”

“What?”

“There’s like, a zillion messages from Stark,” Steve scrolled through the messages, clearly ignoring most. “Something about strip poker and his jacuzzi.”

“Okay, let’s go,” replied Bucky, a dead-serious expression on his face. Steve turned to him.

“What?”

“C’mon, this gotta be hilarious.” Bucky laughed, already walking ahead of Steve.

When they arrived at Tony’s presidential suite, Steve was excited to see what his friends were up to this time. Bucky opened the door, rushing inside. Steve followed, shaking his head in amusement for Bucky’s actions.

“Are you wearing at least five pieces of clothing?” Clint yelled as soon as he closed the door.

“Hm... I guess?” Steve answered, a frown planted on his face. “It’s not like I count when I put it on, man.”

“Good. Let’s find a way to take it off.” He smirked, turning to the others, who were distributed around the room.

“I volunteer to figure it out!” Tony raised his hand euphorically. “Anyway, boys, it’s strip poker time! Vodka shots are available to cure shyness, please direct yourselves to the bar stand before placing your bets.”

Bucky passed by Steve with a smirk, brushing their arms while doing it.

“Hey, take it easy over there,” Steve warned.

“Why?” Bucky glanced at Steve teasingly before turning the glass inside his mouth. “You don’t want to see me taking off my clothes?”

Steve felt a slight chill in the back of his neck as he considered the idea, but hurriedly stepped on and grabbed a glass of his own. “Don’t tease me, jerk.”

Everybody picked their spots on the table and received the first three cards. Maria quit before the bets and they started the game.

 

@TonyStark: What’s the point of playing strip poker with friends when your friends don’t want to see you naked?

@TonyStark: Rogers stripping makes me question my sexuality.

@ClintBarton in reply to @TonyStark: Everything makes you question your sexuality bc you’re really gay inside

@TonyStark in reply to @ClintBarton: At least I’m not the str8 one with a 6-year-old crush smashed by Rogers rejection.

 

Some things were hard to unsee. Some things shouldn’t be put in display for public access, like the sight of Clint on his duck-printed yellow underwear. Or Peggy putting her only-in-lingerie body as a shield in front of Angie’s figure, who took off her bra, even with her remaining skirt.

“Why did you choose your bra instead of the skirt?” Scott was the one who asked. “Not that I’m complaining though.”

Angie glanced at him. “Try to guess, pal.”

“Wait, what-” Scott frowned, “oh my God.”

By the end of the game, Natasha was the only person completely dressed, her tight black dress hugging her curves almost mocking the others, who were standing there nearly naked. She only had to get rid of her pair of heels and a necklace. Bucky and Steve were only wearing their underwear, laughing drunkenly to everything.

Around 3 a.m. everybody was already in Tony’s jacuzzi, spilling drinks and splashing water all over the place.

Steve took a look around and caught Peggy and Angie making out at one corner of the jacuzzi. Sam and Maria were looking at each other dirtily and talking low, and Tony was cuddling a sleeping Clint. Steve was suddenly very aware of Bucky’s right arm brushing against his. They were sitting side by side, both bathed by the boiling hot water, bodies so close that Steve wasn’t sure if the heat he felt crawling up his skin was coming from the jacuzzi or from Bucky.

Both Steve and Bucky turned their heads simultaneously, exchanging glares. Bucky’s gaze almost burned holes in Steve’s skin, like he was undressing him. It was the perfect setup for another moment of pretending. But Steve wouldn’t be pretending shit. He wanted Bucky right there with that predator expression of his.

God, that agreement was though.

Steve unwittingly bit his lower lip. Then he got self-conscious about that and backed away. “I’m calling it a night.” They were drunk. That was wrong and there was no need to display public affection.

“Yeah, you’re probably right.”

There was a small smile playing on Bucky’s lips while he stared down and got up from the jacuzzi. They looked for their clothing. Eventually though, they gave up and left behind what they couldn’t find and rushed through the halls.

“God, I can’t believe I was cursed with the gross view of Tony Stark’s strip dance on top of a chair tonight,” Bucky groaned, half laughing.

“Believe me, that’s not the worst thing I’ve ever seen him doing.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Wish I was,” Steve sighed, briefly glancing at Bucky, “we shared a room at college for two weeks until I couldn’t stand him anymore.”

Bucky chuckled. “God, tonight was insane. I’m exhausted, all I need is a shower and a bed.”

Steve opened the suite’s door and looked back at Bucky, dead-serious. “No, it’s my turn. I go first.”

“No, _I_ go.”

They both exchanged gazes between the washroom and each other, instantly starting to run. They brushed shoulders, trying to push behind one another playfully. It wasn’t going to work. Bucky jumped in the bathtub first and Steve threw himself forward in order to open the faucet, not realizing entirely his actions’ consequences until his torso was stuck to Bucky’s shirtless chest.

“What are we practicing now, Rogers?” Bucky inquired.

 _Oh, no,_ thought Steve, _you’re not gonna win with this one._ Steve couldn’t risk the fact that he was dressed only in his boxers and it was already wet, glued to his figure.

“We’re practicing how long you can endure cold water shower.” As soon as he finished talking, Steve opened the faucet. He didn’t mind cold showering.

“NO!” Bucky shifted away from Steve immediately, falling at the end of the tub. “Fine. You won, punk.”

Some minutes later, Steve was already dressed in his pajamas and was about to turn off the lights when Bucky came out of the bathroom dressed in his Cap’s t-shirt, looking slightly embarrassed as he rubbed the back of his neck.

“I’m sorry for bothering you the other night. With my, you know, nightmares and stuff.”

Steve was taken aback by this, widening his eyes. “You don’t have to be sorry. It’s not your fault. I’m sorry I held you without your permission.” He crossed his arms in front of his chest.

“Well, I-” Bucky copied his moves, “it helped a bit. I slept well.”

“Good,” Steve felt a spark of happiness lightening up inside his chest.

Bucky frowned, staring at his feet. “Maybe I’m just not used to this bed.”

“Yeah.” Steve shrugged, trying to sound noncommittally, but also trying to get rid of the clenching sensation inside his body.

“But. It’s our last night here and. I don’t wanna bother you again.” Bucky bit his lower lip, not looking straight at Steve, which only made Steve feel hotter inside.

“If you say last night helped,” Steve cleared his throat, “I could stay by your side again.”

“You mean hold me.” Bucky stared at Steve, locking their gazes together.

“I mean hold you.” His breath was cut off. “It’s fine by me if, you know, if it’s gonna help you.”

“Yeah, okay.” Bucky picked up his blanket and got in bed under it, then Steve turned off the lights, doing the same.

They shifted inside the blankets until their skins touched, caressing slightly against each other. Steve felt Bucky’s body temperature and his soft breathing right next to him, shyly crawling up to his chest, but still not entirely lying there. They fell asleep shortly after that.

  

* * *

 

A/N: This is one of the first times I make an edit so I tried to make my headline version of the firework scene. Please don't mind the flaws. If you are reading from a book reader that does not display pictures, check [here](http://i.imgur.com/VJiVWHC.jpg).

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We would like to thank our artist, [myloadedgodcomplex](https://archiveofourown.org/users/myloadedgodcomplex/pseuds/myloadedgodcomplex), who worked on the beautiful [art](http://buckingstevie.tumblr.com/post/164469798768/art-for-take-one-action-by-reet-and-luzzie) for this chapter. 


	6. TAKE SIX

**Sunday, July 5th, 2015**

 

“Come on, Peggy! I don’t have all day!” Angie shouted from the hallway, clearly annoyed with Peggy’s delay.

“Chill out, ma’am! I’m not going to leave something behind,” Peggy yelled back, the sound of her voice reaching Steve’s ears at the other side of the hallway. “Besides, what do you have to do at home that’s so important you can’t wait for me to check the bedroom?”

“You! I’ll do you!”

“Was that supposed to be a treat?” Peggy showed at the doorjamb, a dirty smile playing on her lips.

“Oh, ladies, don’t feed my imagination,” Tony complained, raising one hand to his forehead. “This headache is enough to occupy my mind for now.”

“Weak,” Clint coughed the word, reaching Stark’s eyes with an angelic expression on his face.

“What did you just say, little fella?”

“I mean, that drinking game last night was a piece of cake. Can’t believe you’re hungover for that,” Clint remarked confidently.

“It wasn’t what it felt like when you shouted ‘bootylicious cannonball’ and jumped in his jacuzzi,” Scott whispered under his breath.

“Okay, guys, no time for small talk,” Natasha warned, “the cabs are already waiting for us at the port.”

When the cab arrived in front of Steve’s building — well, Steve and Bucky’s building now — the doorman came to pick their luggage while both got out of the car. Tony stuck his head through the open window, shouting “Bye, boys! Think of me while doing the dirty, it might help! And it was nice to meet you, James!”

Steve wished there was a dirty being done in the first place.

There was a weird sensation growing in Steve’s chest, and it was getting bigger and bigger as he got close to his floor.

It was good to be home, sure. It wasn’t like he had a hard time on the cruise. Actually, it was so much more fun than he could ever have hoped. With all Stark’s teasing, Peggy and Angie’s company, and Clint’s master comebacks. It was one of the best birthday celebrations he ever had, come to think of it.

And Bucky. Which was probably where the problem lay.

The cold war status they were living under seemed to have come to an end. It was comforting, really, to think that he and Bucky were heading towards the  camaraderie stage of this relationship and he would make a friend out of this big mess of an agreement. A really hot friend.

Which led to the fact that Steve was definitely going miss being _forced_ to stay by Bucky’s side. All the touching and the pretending — he wasn’t pretending a damn thing, he was actually taking advantage of that.

Fuck.

_You realize something is very wrong when the contract supposed to be just business is giving you some weird kind of pleasure._

“It’s good to be home,” Steve muttered to Bucky when they got to the elevator, thinking about how much of a repugnant creature he was. Taking advantage of that contract should be considered some kind of abuse, certainly.

“Yeah,” Bucky nodded. “I think Clint wrote his number on the back of my hand.”

“That’s very gay of him.”

Bucky stifled a laugh. “Just like me.” At the corner of his eyes, Steve thought he caught Bucky biting his lower lip. But he wasn’t sure if it was his mind playing tricks on him once again. “I read somewhere he had a crush on you.”

“That’s new,” Steve frowned, “I’d never know.”

“Seriously?” Bucky asked suspiciously. “But would you go out with him if he had told you?”

Steve shrugged. “I dunno. Clint’s my friend.”

“What’s with this I-don’t-kiss-friends-but-strangers-due-to-a-contract-is-okay moral of yours?” Bucky inquired half laughing as soon as the elevator’s door opened.

Steve licked his lip. God, he was not kissing Bucky just because of the damn contract. “I wouldn’t like to break my friendship with Clint if things don’t work out. And besides, we have benefits.”

“Is kissing me a benefit?”

Steve’s stomach dropped abruptly, because _yeah, God,_ but he devoted all of his concentration to searching for his keys. “I guess? You’re pretty good company when you’re nice.” _Find keys. Unlock door. C’mom, Steve, you can do it._

“And when I’m not nice?”

 _Hot as fuck, obviously._  

“Oh, finally. I was starting to wonder where you gentlemen might have been,” Fury’s voice reverberated through Steve’s living room as soon as he opened the front door, still outside the apartment. “Nice to see you again, Barnes.”

“What the hell?” Steve inquired, astonished. He also felt Bucky’s figure tense up behind his back.

“Hello, Fury.”

“Oh, don’t be dramatic.” Nick waved his hand dismissively, comfortably sitting at one of Rogers armchairs.

“You broke into my house!”

“It’s not like this is the first time,” Fury retorted.

“I’m changing the locks.”

“Which is not gonna make any difference since I’m your agent and I have a copy of your keys in case you overdose like celebrities do from time to time.” Nick rolled his eyes in annoyance. “Anyway, let’s get down to business. I’m here to remind your highness you have approximately...” Nick started, shaking his wrist and checking his watch. “Forty-five minutes ‘till we leave for the airport.”

“Excuse me?” Steve was taken aback. He literally just got home.

“I presumed your little ‘birthday with friends’ getaway would vanish your memory towards your duties. The _Captain America_ press tour, Rogers. Our flight leaves to Los Angeles in less than two hours.”

“The press tour. Of course.” Steve sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Right, I’ll be ready in a second.”

“Take your time, sunshine.”

Steve headed to his bedroom upstairs, but just the thought of spending two weeks on tour was enough to suck the energy out of his body. The only thing he felt into doing was throwing his body on the mattress and dying. However he, at least, managed to open an empty baggage and jam clean clothes and necessary stuff inside before burying his face in his pillows.

Two weeks of planes, hotels and interviews. And two weeks without Bucky. Not that it was a big deal, or that Steve was afraid of missing Bucky. If someone had offered that some days ago, we would accept gladly, but now…

But now he fucking needed to recompose himself, because that was stupid. Bucky probably was dying to get some time off from Steve. It was a contract, he was being forced in all that and he was probably tired of pretending. And Steve needed to clear his mind.

He twisted in bed and his eyes suddenly laid on the figure standing at his door.

“So, press tour. Are you excited?” Bucky asked with a small grin.

“Do I look like I am?” Steve replied, stifling a laugh. He got up and picked up his luggage. “I have the cleaning lady’s number on the fridge and you can send me a text if you need something. And there’s a toothless girl who always come by to sell her cookies. I like the peppermint ones.”

 _Please,_ do _send me a text even if you don’t need anything._

“Don’t worry, I’ll housekeep, _baby_ ,” Bucky winked. That made Steve chuckle as he passed by Bucky.

“Thanks, _sweetheart,”_ Steve winked back. “Bye, Bucky.”

“Bye, Steve.”

 

GOSSIP: _OMG! Steve Rogers and his boyfriend kissing on 4_ _th_ _of July!_ _Click here to see the pictures_

METROPOLIS: _America’s cutest couple: Steve Rogers and his_ _boyfriend James Barnes become LGBT icons_

MARVEL NEWS: _Are you ready? Captain America’s press tour_ _starting this Monday, on LA, followed by Paris, Berlin, Beijing and_ _more. Check the dates_.

BUZZ: _Steve Rogers calls his boyfriend “Bucky”! Watch the full video_ _here_

TRENDING TOPICS: _#Stucky_

The first three days of the tour had been busy, running around the West Coast. Steve was caught by surprise when he laid eyes on Natasha at the airport, looking as polished as ever in a tight ponytail and grey power suit. Steve would have laughed if anyone had told him she was intoxicated as hell and winning all the pieces of clothing at a strip poker circle just the night before. She smiled at him, nodding professionally.

Of course, their relationship adviser would have to attend his first rounds of interviews as a committed man, to avoid him from screwing things up for not knowing when to keep his mouth shut. Steve always had a talent for being way too honest.

Steve loved the _Captain America_ production, but jumping from a new hotel room to another and having airplanes and interviews in between always drained his energy. Especially when all he wanted was his own warm bed. And the morning view of his hot roommate walking around the house shirtless.

Oh, yeah, Bucky. Steve hadn’t heard from him since he left town and that was driving him insane. Then he tried to convince himself it didn’t bother him. He _tried_.

He couldn’t stop checking his phone’s screen.

The fans were conscious enough to avoid some personal subjects, but apparently, some things were inevitable. And now this “ship” thing was all over the internet since some girl asked him what he used to call Bucky.

“Jerk,” Steve said, making the audience laugh with the joke. He wasn’t joking. “Sometimes Bucky, but mostly jerk.”

He didn’t have a choice, really. In his mind, Steve called him a lot of things, from _fucker_ to _sit-on-my-lap-please._ “Bucky” was the closest thing to an answer. But now Steve had to face this dreadful “Stucky” ship name everywhere. And drawings. A lot of them — much better than reality. Drawings that Steve would love to draw, and he kind of started doing it.

He happened to find his moleskine sketchbook somewhere deep in his luggage and in less than three days it was full of drawings of Bucky’s face.

Steve had just arrived at his hotel room in Paris when his phone buzzed in his pocket. He tried to suppress the anxiety and excitement that crawled up his body, tingling his skin. But all the efforts were in vain as soon as he saw the name on the screen.

 

JAMES: Hi

JAMES: I’ve got some of your mail

 

 _You could get a lot of shit from me, if you wanted to._  

 

Steve typed “hii”, but it was too excited. He tried “hey”, but he thought it was too promiscuous. “Hi” with a period would seem too serious. Fuck. When did he get so self-conscious about his greetings words?

 

STEVE: Hi

STEVE: Thanks a lot.

JAMES: No problem

 

Shit. He just screwed any chance of continuing the conversation. Steve buried his face in the pillow and groaned.

Steve stayed the whole night and half of the next day struggling to find an excuse to talk to Bucky, which was causing him a clenching sensation at the top of his stomach. He checked his phone all the time hoping that more mail would arrive and Bucky would have something to text him about again. He even considered the idea of sending mail himself to his own address. Pathetic, right?

He didn’t want that ridiculous excuse of a chat to be the only interaction they would have during his absence. So, that afternoon, he typed and deleted a zillion messages to Bucky before his finger finally pressed the “send” button.

 

STEVE: What’s up

 

His heart was hammering.

 

JAMES: Boxing

JAMES: With Thor

JAMES: Training day

STEVE: Kick his ass for me

JAMES: I’m on it

 

If Steve wasn’t about to enter the press conference, he would totally bury his face in the pillow again.

The day went on, press after autographs after photocall. But the conversations with Bucky stayed at the back of his mind the whole time. At night, Steve decided to drink his mixed feelings away at the bar with a couple of colleagues from the movie crew. By the time he got to this room, Steve couldn’t walk properly, which didn’t stop him from picking up his phone and staring drunkenly at the screen.

It was late, Bucky was certainly already sleeping. And Steve was drunk. It wasn’t like he had anything to say, but his brain kept trying to find reasons, any reason. And considering he was drunk, that didn’t take long.

 

STEVE: Are you awake

STEVE: Hope not

STEVE: I’m awake

STEVE: Well you already know that

STEVE: I’m drunk af the guys went to a bar

STEVE: I really wish you wont read this tomorrow

STEVE: Shit you’re reading anyway

STEVE: Well don’t think this is nonsense i really have something to say!!!

STEVE: Do you have something to do with THIS???

 

He snapped a picture of the bear dressed as a World War II soldier he had found inside his suitcase and sent to Bucky.

 

STEVE: Spit it out what is Sargent B doing in my suitcase?

STEVE: Don’t think that just because i’m gonna sleep with it means your mission is accomplished

STEVE: I make my own decisions

 

When Steve snapped his eyes open the next morning and saw the fucking bear still tight between his arms, he almost had a heart attack. _Fuck fuck fuck._ He twisted in his blanket and pillows, struggling to find his phone. He felt his face burning with embarrassment, even though no one was there to witness it. _God, what have I done?_  

There was one single text from Bucky.

 

JAMES: Did Sargent B bring you sweet dreams?

 

The phone slipped from Steve’s sweaty hands, dramatically landing on the floor. He felt his heartbeat race speed in such a short period of time Steve thought his chest would split in two pieces. He headed straight to the bathroom, sticking himself under the cold-water flow of the shower. At that point, Steve was really tempted to crush his head on the tile wall. He stayed like that for what seemed an eternity, but apparently eternity wasn’t enough time to come up with a good answer.

 _Good job, dumbass._ He wanted to talk to Bucky, so there you go _._

 

STEVE: I hate you

 

The reply came in less than a minute.

 

JAMES: Srsly, what did you drink? I need this. By the way, I don’t know what you were talking about, I have absolutely nothing to do with it.

STEVE: I’m hungover, don’t piss me off. I know it was you.

 

Steve’s phone buzzed with the notification of a new picture. He opened it, only to find a photo of Bucky with a fresh aura, wet hair covering his face and a white towel around his shoulders. His cheeks were blushing and he was so _damn_ hot Steve couldn’t stop staring at it.

 

JAMES: Just finished boxing. On my way to coffee and movie set.

STEVE: You mean cotton candy crème flavored frappuccino?

JAMES: Punk

JAMES: If my boyfriend knew how to make it, maybe I’d drink black coffee more often

STEVE: I definitely hate you, jerk

 

He snapped a selfie laying on his white pillows and sheets, the morning sunbeams all over his face and hair, making it shine in a shade of gold. _Now,_ Steve was feeling much better.

 

NEWS: _Jöhann Schimidt, host of The Red Skull Show, drops bomb on_ _twitter and says that Hollywood actors are ‘becoming’ gay_

@SchimidtOfficial: What’s happening with Hollywood? Must be something in the water because every good actor is turning gay.

NEWS: _BAM! Steve Rogers gives massive reply to Jöhann Schmidt!_ _Check it out!_

@SteveRogers in reply to @SchmiditOfficial: Oh, I’m flattered you think I’m a good actor. I’m sorry you don’t think as highly of yourself. Maybe drink the gay water, it might help.

 

It was the middle of another press conference, and Steve was starting to feel a bit tired from answering the same questions with different words all over again. Then, one fan in the crowd raised their hand.

“You over there,” the moderator said pointing at her.

She stood up, the whole room went silent. “I have a very serious question: do you miss Bucky?”

“Hell yeah,” Steve snapped without thinking twice. Then he noticed what he had just done, feeling his cheeks burn. Sure, it was perfectly fine to say that he missed Bucky, reasonable even. That was why he was on that fucked up fake-relationship in the first place.

What was _not_ fine was the way Steve just let it drop out of his mouth. It was not fine for Steve to think that he was so translucent, so obvious. It was written on his face, for God’s sake. The crowd burst into laughter and overjoyed sounds, only increasing Steve’s self-consciousness.

After the press conference, Natasha came to Steve with a wicked grin on her lips. “I’m impressed. I’ll give you a grade seven out of ten.”

“You’re having fun with this, aren’t you?”

“You kidding? Your relationship with James is my doctoral dissertation. I can’t believe what an excellent job I’m doing here.”

Six days to go. Steve couldn’t stop counting, as if the action would make time go faster. He was in Thailand now, and by the time he got to his hotel room, he knew it was too early for Bucky to be awake. Still, he checked his phone.

There was a text from him.

 

BUCKY: You’re disturbing my sleep

STEVE: I wasn’t even talking to you

 

Steve was about to lock the screen when the reply came, making his heart jump.

 

BUCKY: But you were disturbing it anyway

 

That was it. That was all it took to make Steve think he was inside Bucky’s head, his fertile imagination playing tricks yet again. Steve looked at his phone’s screen grinning. He felt like an idiot. He _so_ was acting like it. Another text came.

 

BUCKY: And just to be clear, I miss you too baby

STEVE: You were watching the press conference

STEVE: Bucky, go to sleep, it’s fucking late for you

BUCKY: Make me

BUCKY: Ok I can’t sleep

STEVE: Nightmares?

BUCKY: Kind of

STEVE: I have an idea, answer me

BUCKY: I’m answering you

STEVE: My facetime, dumbass

 

Steve put on his earphones. “Hey.”

“Hey,” that familiar husky tone of voice came right away, filling in Steve’s head. Low and sexy, making his mouth go dry.

“What’s up?” Steve struggled to get his shit together and say something.

“Nothing. Laying on the couch, actually.”

“Please, tell me you haven’t been sleeping on my couch.”

Bucky stifled a laugh. “Of course not,” he said, “I haven’t been sleeping at all.”

“Jesus, Bucky! Why the hell not?”

“Don’t blame it on me, you haven’t been here to hold me non-consensually at night. But what’s your brilliant idea?”

“Talking.”

There was a long moment of silence until Bucky had spoken again. “Talk about what?”

“What’s on your mind.” Steve shrugged.

“How talking is gonna help me sleep?”

“You’ll get so bored of talking to me, you’ll fall asleep.”

“We’re gonna stay here all day.”

“You mean all night,” Steve corrected.

Bucky chuckled. “You punk. Okay, I’m thinking about my morning running and cotton candy frappe afterwards as a reward. You?”

“Could you be gayer?”

“Yeah, do you wanna see?”

“Bring it, Elton John.”

Bucky cleared his throat dramatically. “Have you ever seen me performing Magic Mike’s choreography to Pony?”

 

BUZZED TV: _Star-crossed lovers! Actor Steve Rogers admits on_ _Captain America’s live conference in Singapore how much he misses_ _his boytoy! Scroll down to watch entire video!_

**Wednesday, July 22** ** nd ** **, 2015**

 

Steve was happy to finally go back home. Counting the time spent on the cruise plus the world trip advertising the movie, he was almost three weeks away from his own bed, which he missed so dearly. As he waited patiently for the plane to land at JFK airport, Steve felt his whole skin tingle with excitement. The thought of not coming back to an empty house was making him unexpectedly eager. Steve picked his phone on his back pocket, readying for the umpteenth time the only two messages Bucky sent him earlier in the day.

 

BUCKY: Can't wait to lay eyes on your pretty ass again, baby

BUCKY: Sorry, autocorrect. Pretty face.

 

“Well, that was fun. But you gentleman still have work to do,” Natasha said as soon as Steve got out the of the plane. She straightened his shirt and tousled his hair with one hand, while she typed something on her phone with the other.

“What do you mean?”

“Don’t play dumb with me, Steve. Just go.” She rolled her eyes and pointed at the exit, his eyes trailing after the movement.

That was when he saw the familiar young man with long hair and bright blue eyes, a goofy smirk playing on his lips. Steve was surprised to see Bucky there, the feeling followed by the embarrassing self-awareness that he spent the whole trip back home pathetically rereading their texts. He had no idea Bucky would be waiting for him, and that little gesture made his heart skip a beat.

_God, Steve. You’re helpless._

He headed to the exit as Bucky got closer. Too close. Bucky threw his arms around Steve’s shoulders and the last thing Steve was capable of processing was the soft heat of his breath and the quick hesitating stare at Steve’s lips, before Bucky’s mouth kissed the corner of his own.

He pulled away too soon, though. Steve’s stomach dropped.

“Sorry,” Bucky mouthed, looking around quickly. “Natasha called the photographer. It was planned.”

Steve nodded. Of course. “Missed you too, sweetheart.”

“Oh, right. Hi, baby, how was your trip?” Bucky stifled a laugh.

“Thought about you before I went to sleep every day.” Steve wasn’t even lying, but Bucky didn’t need to know about that part.

“I guess I can’t relate to that.”

“Oh, c’mon, you have slept in those last days.”

“Only because you bore me to death.”

“It worked,” Steve pointed out.

Bucky stole a glance from him. “It did. Now give me your hand and let’s get out of here.”

Bucky drove Steve back to his apartment — their apartment — in his car. He opened the door, only to find his apartment brighter than he even thought it was possible. It was like the clean furniture and the polished floor were mocking Steve with its sparkles. The entrance hall’s sideboard had seven boxes of scout’s peppermint cookies. Also, the stereo was on, a familiar song playing.

“Is this ‘Take On Me’ by A-ha?” Steve asked.

Bucky turned his face grinning. “Yeah, I love this.”

“I didn’t take you as one of classics type of guy. What is it, 70s, 80s? It’s too emotive for you.”

“Don’t tell me you’re a Nirvana type of guy.” Bucky rolled his eyes. “By the way, maybe I _am_ emotive.”

“What’s wrong with Nirvana?”

“You’re such a punk, Steve,” Bucky said. _“I’ll be coming for your love...”_ He glanced at Steve quickly, noticing Steve couldn’t stop staring at him. Of course he couldn’t. Bucky’s voice blended with the song so cutely. He shook his head with a grin. _“Take on me...”_

Steve bit back a smile. That man was going to be the death of him.

“I see you called the cleaning lady,” Steve commented.

“Yeah, also known as Bucky Barnes.”

“No shit,” Steve widened his eyes. “I can’t believe this.”

“Do you wanna see me in my maid apron? It’s cute, really.” Bucky took Steve’s luggage off his hands and headed to the stairs, his voice fading away. “I’m doing the laundry and I made lunch because I figure your cooking skills are as bad as your coffee skills.”

“You’re damn right.” Steve could smell tomato sauce, which dragged him to the kitchen. He looked around, there were a few pans of food on top of the stove, and cooking accessories on the counter. “I think I can get used to it,” Steve murmured thoughtfully.

“Enjoy it while you have me,” Bucky said, his voice suddenly behind Steve. He passed by Steve and threw the dishcloth over his shoulder, promptly tying his long hair back. Bucky set the plates on the raised bar and grabbed a spoon. “By the way, I made meatballs with gravy and mashed potatoes.”

Steve felt his head a little dizzy. The picture of Bucky cooking and serving him food was a bit too much. A bit too gorgeous to handle.

“Wait, what? Do you think I need your cooking skills to survive?” Steve arched one eyebrow.

“Who’s gonna make lunch when we split up?” Bucky handled him his plate. He had a smirk on his face, but was not making eye contact with Steve.

“I can just order take-out as I used to do until you showed up,” Steve shrugged, lifting the fork to his mouth’s level.

Bucky dramatically sighed, putting his hand on top of his chest right above the heart’s location, an outrageous expression printed on his face. “You wouldn’t.”

“Oh, I would.” Steve smirked, pleased, still chewing his food.

Bucky sneakily arranged two meatballs in his spoon and catapulted it in his direction before Steve was able to process what was even happening.

The heavy red gravy and processed meat splashed all over Steve’s face and torso, coloring his once white shirt into either a Picasso or a three-year-old kindergarten’s masterpiece.

“Don’t underestimate me, punk,” Bucky threatened, staring at him dead-serious in the eye, but the playful smile printed on his lips gave him away.

“You’re _so_ dead, dude,” Steve said, getting up from his seat across from Bucky, picking the glass of water by the side of the table and throwing its content at Bucky’s face in one sudden move.

Bucky opened his eyes and the smirk of satisfaction he displayed through the water running on his face made Steve tilted his head in confusion.

“Good one, Stevie. Not so passive all the time, hm?” Bucky teased, running his fingers through his — now wet — hair. His lips were pink from licking it. That bastard was seriously pushing Steve’s buttons. “Besides, that was refreshing. Because you know, I’m just so _hot_ and all.”

“Okay, that’s it. I’m done with you,” Steve announced, already leaving the kitchen. He leaned on the wall as soon as he was certain Bucky could no longer see him, breathing in and out, trying to stabilize his heartbeat. As soon as he felt like he got his shit together again, Steve pulled the dirty shirt off his body on the way to the laundry room.

He put the piece of clothing next to the pile that he managed to accumulate throughout the almost whole month Steve spent way from home, sighing as soon as he realized how much work he had to do.

Steve moved to the dryer machine first to pick anything Bucky might have left inside. It was mostly empty, really. Expect for a small piece of pink fabric forgotten inside it. Panties.

Bucky had someone over during Steve’s absence.

Steve felt like someone just hit him right in the stomach. Like a bucket of ice being thrown on him. Bucky had someone. He really did. And he didn’t tell Steve when Steve asked, which was kind of hurtful when he came to realize that.

That made Steve feel a little unsteady, although the sane and rational part of his brain was telling him he had no reason to react like that. It wasn’t like Steve expected him to be faithful to a fake relationship. Bucky had someone, so what? _What’s the big deal, Steve?_ He couldn’t bring himself to answer that, like the question was a dead end, looking at the top of a big cliff he wouldn’t dare to jump.

Steve mechanically resumed his laundry mission.

Once he had finally finished his house duties, Steve decided to get ready for the _Captain America_ New York premiere and screening after-party. On his way to his own bedroom, Steve stopped in front of Bucky’s room, the open door displaying a shirtless Bucky stretched out onto his bed looking up at the ceiling, his jeans loose on his hips, showing off his boxers waistband.

Steve stood at his doorstep for a moment, suddenly very aware of the fact that both of them were half naked. How convenient.

“Hey, just a reminder, you need to be ready for the premiere before six p.m., so we have enough time to get to the red carpet with no rush, you know.” Steve scratched his nape, looking at some spot on the wall straight through Bucky’s direction.

“Alright.” Bucky lifted his head, momently gazing at Steve.

Steve nodded. Bucky nodded back. Steve stayed at the doorstep for a couple more awkward seconds before moving along without further conversations. He entered his own bedroom, closing the door with his back. God, what was happening to him?

 

OK!: _Captain America is back! Keep up with our coverage of the entire_ _premiere event of the famous franchise plus red carpet arrivals here!_

Steve’s hands were sweating. He had gone to premieres plenty of  times before, but there was something special about this one. He never had to pretend being in relationship in a red carpet. With all those cameras and eyes following and capturing his every move.

Also, there was the fact that he was feeling self-conscious about Bucky witnessing the actor side of him live. Talking to interviewers. Posing for pictures. Signing autographs.

As soon as the limousine rounded the corner of the street where the event was being placed, Steve was able to hear his own name being shouted in a chorus of voices; the excitement of being in a movie debut hitting him as hard as it did the first time.

“Steve,” Bucky said, calling out his attention. Bucky’s bright eyes were staring at him deeply, he was seated in front of him. “Breath,” he stifled a laugh, “you look like you’re about to faint.”

Then he just realized he was holding his breath for too long, his mind cleared out when he did so.

“Nervous?” Bucky asked.

“Maybe.” He shrugged, admittedly.

“Think you can’t handle this?” Bucky teased, a mocking smile printed on his face.

“Dunno.” Steve ignored Bucky’s attempt to lighter the subject with a joke. “It’s our first public appearance and we have to do a lot more than hold hands and pose for pictures.”

“What, afraid to share some spit?” Maybe the way Steve’s body reacted tensing gave Bucky a clue. He suppressed a laugh a leaned on his spot. “We’ve done this before, pal, it’s nothing new.”

Steve sighed, turning his head at the other direction to look through the window. _Jesus, what’s wrong me?_ There he was, inside a fancy car with a damn hot guy by his side to call his boyfriend — fake boyfriend, but still — going to the premiere of another movie he was the lead character, but whining about having to pretend being something he wasn’t. It was just acting, for God’s sake. His own profession.

“Hey,” Bucky called out Steve, catching his attention. “Would it help if we practice before going out there?”

“What?”

“You know, to calm your nerves down. We could rehearse some set phrases and gestures, so we won’t be catch by surprise if something unexpected comes up,” Bucky explained, his features as relaxed as someone who had just got out a yoga class. It was like _he_ was the veteran at these events and Steve was the freshman learning the basics.

 _Oh, he wants to practice lines._ Steve realized. For a brief moment, Steve thought he wanted to practice their kissing. How pathetic.

“Okay, that’s fine by me.” He shrugged, as if the action was going to miraculously recover some of his long lost dignity.

“Great,” Bucky nodded, taking in Steve’s consent. “So, when we stop to give little Q&As to the journalists at the red carpet’s borders it would be nice for you to pull me closer to your body by putting your arm around my back and resting your hand on my hip. That gives alludes to intimacy, a desire to keep close.”

The level of details in Bucky’s description wasn’t doing any good to Steve’s senses. He had someone else already, after all. Probably a girlfriend. _Respect that, dumbass._

“It would also be a good idea for you to keep gazing at me from time to time, as if you were making sure I am still by your side and also having a good time,” Bucky continued, getting up from his seat across from Steve and taking the spot by his side. He grabbed Steve’s right hand in between both of his, looking intently into Steve’s eyes. “I’ll be there to take your hand, in an act to assure you everything’s fine and to support you at this big night. And if that’s your concern, nobody’s gonna suspect a goddamn thing.”

Steve’s breath caught in his throat. Maybe suspicion wasn’t his concern, after all. Bucky was too close. And touching his skin. And making eye contact. Steve wasn’t _that_ strong to handle all of that at once.

“You could also put a lock of my hair behind my ear **,** absently. And keep your fingers there for a while, as if to make the small touch last longer,” Bucky said, lifting his own hand to Steve’s left ear, demonstrating the content of his words. Steve noticed Bucky moved closer at his seat, his thigh now pressed against Steve’s. _Oh, God._

It was like Steve was caught up in a movie. He felt all the touches but couldn’t bring himself to respond to them. His senses were overwhelmed, and all Steve was able to do was stand there and let those new sensations burn inside him.

“Then, at some point, you let the hand on my ear drop to my jaw, cupping my cheek. It’ll look gentle, as a couple in love should look like. When you feel like it is time for a kiss, you first look into my eyes. Then drop your gaze to my mouth, and go for it without thinking twice. Like this...” Bucky leaned in Steve’s direction in one single move, sealing their lips together.

Steve’s eyes closed instantly, his body responding to Bucky’s touches before his mind could wrap itself around what was happening. Bucky lifted his frame from the seat without breaking the kiss and positioned himself in front of Steve, his right leg kneeled for balance. Steve spread his legs, giving Bucky enough room to stand in between Steve’s thighs.

Steve could see now why Bucky was such a good actor.

The realization that Bucky was right there kissing him, skin to skin, _feeling_ him, snapped Steve out of his trance. Steve no longer had the discipline to resist.

And frankly, the image of Bucky kneeled in between his thighs was incredibly arousing. So, Steve took his face with both hands, leaning into the kiss while simultaneously pulling Bucky closer. Bucky settled him hands on Steve’s waist, before starting to run it up Steve’s back, exploring his body through Rogers’ expensive clothes.

The intensity of the kiss started to rise, the pressure of their lips becoming harder and harder, just like his erection. _Fuck._ Bucky was the one to part his lips first, licking and wetting Steve’s mouth. Steve felt his crouch twitching with that. He was about to open his own mouth when the car stopped at one sudden move.

“Gentlemen, we have arrived,” The driver announced, turning in his seat to the limo’s insides, looking at their direction through the dark glass separating them from the cabin.

 

GLORIOUS: _It’s finally here! The Captain America’s new movie premiere_ _arrived and the event is packed with celebrities! Check out the celebs’ looks_ _at the red carpet!_

HEROIC HOLLYWOOD: _Captain Smoocher! Captain America main_ _character Steve Rogers shares a kiss with his real-life leading boyfriend_ _James Barnes on Red Carpet_

ROTTEN POTATOES: _Captain America is certified fresh! This week at the_ _movies we welcome the return of Marvel’s leading soldier, starring Steve_ _Rogers. What are the critics saying?_

The after-party was crowded just like Steve expected. The fancy room was packed with famous and high-status people, besides important members of Hollywood community and critics. Steve had taken zillion pictures already and he still hadn’t finished his first bottle of beer. Bucky was by his side most of the night, but some directors and screenwriters picked up chats with him, so Steve let him take his time alone with them.

Some of his friends were there, too. Of course, Tony wouldn’t miss a party. Sam always attended Rogers’ important events and Steve was almost sure Clint had a blind date planned for that night, but considering he was also there at the party that must not have gone well.

Bucky was engaged in a conversation with a couple of guests when, out of the corner of his eye, Steve noticed an elegant blonde woman approach Bucky. She had that fake-vulnerability posture and flirtatious eyes, and she made skin contact with him while she talked. Bucky was smiling back at her, his hands inside his pockets, bouncing side to side.

Steve wanted to keep staring, but Clint summoned by his right.

“Dude, that movie! You smashed it!” Clint patted him on the back.

“Thanks, pal.” Bucky and the woman exchanged a couple more sentences before Steve caught Bucky’s slight nod to his own direction. The woman’s eyes trailed after Bucky’s movement, her gazing landing on Rogers. Her smile slowly faded away, returning to Bucky with a nod.

“I mean, your ass looks great in leather.” Steve turned to Clint again.

“Oh, not you, too.” He made a dramatic face. “I already have to deal with Stark talking about my butt! What’s wrong with you guys?”

“Hormones. Hormones are what’s wrong.” Clint exclaimed, accusation printed on his features. “I mean, hormones are right, your ass is the problem.”

“C’mon, Clint. Blow me.” Steve rolled his eyes, quickly noticing Bucky heading back to his direction, an amused smirk playing on his lips.

“If you insist,” Clint said, raising his hands like he volunteered.

“Not literally, jackass,” Steve chuckled, rolling his eyes at his horny friend. “You can’t blow me.”

“I can,” Bucky said, popping up by Clint’s side. Steve felt his cheeks blushing furiously. Bucky’s face was as relaxed as he was talking about the weather. “What, you don’t want me to?”

Clint’s gaze exchanged between Steve and Bucky as if he was at the front row of an exciting tennis match, waiting for the answer. Steve froze on his spot. “Didn’t say that.”

“So?” Bucky arched one eyebrow. _So? Please, do._

“I think I heard Tony’s calling my name,” Clint said, suddenly tapping Bucky and Steve’s back, “see you around!”

Bucky shortened the space between them, the smirk not leaving his lips. “So you _do_ want me to?”

Steve closed his eyes for a second. Too much pictures inside his head, not even a bit healthy for his sanity. “Define _want_ ,” was all he managed to say.

“I’m just kidding, Steve.” Bucky stifled a laugh, shrugging the subject off. “So, I thought everyone here knew I’m your boyfriend.”

“What do you mean?”

“That woman over there, name’s Lorraine, invited me to grab a drink with her.” He arched his brows. “She was flirting, so I told her you’re my boyfriend, she didn’t know.”

“You know you don’t have to be fake-faithful to me just because we’re here as a couple, right?”

“Yep.”

“Then why don’t you go?” he pushed.

Bucky narrowed his eyes at Steve. “You’re joking, right?”

“Is it because you have someone already or-”

“I’ve told you. I am single.” Bucky’s tone started to rise.

“So. Go ahead.” Steve encouraged.

“Don’t want to,” Bucky snapped, looking at his feet and then right through the crowd.

There was a brief moment of awkward silent which Steve sincerely considered hitting his head at the wall. They were doing _so_ fine. Of course, he just had to ruin it. And worst part of it, he had no idea how he managed to do so.

“Do you feel like going home, maybe?” Steve asked reluctantly.

Something suddenly lighted up on Bucky’s expressions. He tilted his head. “Sure.”

The short trip back to their apartment was filled with silence. Even with Bucky’s obvious excitement at the prospect of going home, Steve was hesitant, feeling a tangible presence of tension inside the limousine. It was like Bucky’s presence by his side was mocking him for being so gawky and clueless when it came to his personal relationships.

They arrived at the flat feeling worn to the bones, and immediately  took their  shoes off in the hallway. Bucky went straight to the large couch on the living room, throwing his whole body on the sofa and burying his face in the cushions.

“You do know your room is just upstairs, right?” Steve forced a laugh, making small conversation.

“Yeah...” Bucky dragged the word, the sound of his voice muffled against the furniture. “But it’s just so soft and warm in here,” he half moaned.

Steve chuckled. Only Bucky could make an action seem sexy and cute at the same time. Even though that husky voice nearly drove Steve crazy, he couldn’t help the fondness Steve felt at the sign of the man spread on his couch like a little kid after a tiresome day.

He sat at the other corner of the sofa, taking the remote control and turning the TV on, loose tie and half of his shirt unbuttoned.

 _“A couple of male penguins was caught in action at a zoo in China stealing eggs from ‘straight’ couples, the zookeepers alleged that the pair was better parents than the biolog-”_ the deep manly voice in the TV announced the special “Winter’s Creatures” documentary on NatGeo.

“What the hell is wrong with these people?” Steve snapped, pressing hard the remote’s button to change to another channel.

He did _not_ need another round of that humiliating scene. Not now, not ever.

Bucky lifted his frame, holding his weight on his elbows and turned to Steve, raising an eyebrow questionably. Steve shrugged, not in the mood to touch — or think, for that matter — the subject of being single again. Bucky twisted and shifted in his spot, lying with his back against the couch’s arm. He tugged at the buttons on the sleeves of his black dress shirt, before rolling them up to his elbows, and crossing his legs nonchalantly. Steve glanced at him, which was not a good idea, he later figured out.

Bucky was unbuttoning his shirt, his gaze locked onto Steve, slowly performing whatever he was doing. His long fingers digging into the buttons, showing his chest. _Not. Healthy._ Steve held his breath and looked away, trying to look casual and not bloody keen on watching the strip, but failing. His body language was screaming the opposite.

Steve tried to pay attention at the TV, but his body was very aware of every motion and shift Bucky made. Bucky was staring at the TV, too now. His feet brushed against Steve’s thigh.

Bucky yawned. “Shit. It’s so late.”

“Yeah,” Steve replied. “We should probably go to bed.” Steve didn’t want to leave the spot.

“But it’s comfortable here...”

“I can’t disagree...” Steve vaguely nodded, his gaze still focused on the television. _What the hell were they supposedly even watching?_

“… and I’m too tired to go upstairs,” Bucky moaned softly, complaining.

Steve tried not to let the arousing little moan get the best of him. _Focus, dumbass._ “Maybe we can stay here?” he added. “At least for a little longer.”

“Alright.” Bucky sighed and sunk his head back into the cushion. “Mind if I take my shirt off?”

_Yes._

“No, it’s fine.”

_It’s not fine._

Bucky then finished taking the rest of the fabric off his body, the sight of his — now bare — shoulders and collarbones draining the rest of Steve’s sanity. Steve’s mouth was dry. _Focus. TV. Discovery Home & Health. _Steve couldn’t care less about Cake Boss right now.

Bucky grabbed the buckle of his belt, also taking it off. His hands reached the still remaining black tie around his neck and started loosing it up. Shirtless with his tie on. It was like the universe playing a sick joke on Steve. The last thing he needed now was the image of his very hot fake-boyfriend dressed — or _undressed_ , in this particular case — as a damn striper. Bucky raised his eyes to Steve’s, taking the last piece completely.

“Do you want to... squeeze in here?” Bucky suggested biting his lower lip, Steve almost couldn’t notice the act in the dark light of the room.

“Okay.” Steve nodded.

Bucky nodded back.

Steve nodded again and crawled up to the spot in front of Bucky, while Bucky dropped a few cushions on the ground to widen the space. They laid face to face to each other. Bucky closed his eyes and enfolded himself on Steve’s torso, lightly brushing his nose to Rogers’ chest before settling his head under Steve’s chin. His soft hair tickled a bit, but its fresh woody scent was intoxicating Rogers’ nose in the best way possible.

The heat of their bodies, the way their arms were curled around each other’s figure and their legs tangled, that was all Steve wanted and missed.

Even though it was pathetic of Steve to use weak excuses, he couldn’t bring himself to regret his decision. Not while laying in Bucky’s embrace. In the morning, Bucky would probably regret it, and Steve would run out of opportunities to hold Bucky’s warm body in his own arms. But right there, in that moment, Steve could see himself getting used to cuddling Bucky like that.


	7. TAKE SEVEN

**Saturday, August 15** ** th ** **, 2015**

 

“Steve, you’re slicing it wrong,” Bucky complained.

“No, I’m not.”

“Yes, you are,” Bucky pointed out with the knife in his hands. “That’s not how you slice onions.”

“Well, if you haven’t noticed, _I don’t know how to cook,_ Barnes.” Steve dropped the knife in his hands and rubbed his eyes. Big mistake. His eyes started burning and watering. “Arghhh, this shit’s burning!”

“Of course it is, jerk. It’s a fucking onion, for God’s sake.” Bucky rolled his eyes. “Who the hell rubs their eyes while handling it? It’s like you’re asking for it.”

“You know what? I’m done,” Steve cleaned his hands on his apron and backed off from the kitchen counter. “I provide fame and money for this house, cooking is your job. Besides, I’m too pretty to cry.”

They were both in Steve’s kitchen, wearing cooking aprons and fighting over tiny things while Bucky’s 80’s songs played on the background. Bucky was doing the actual cooking, while Steve pretended to help by chopping things here and there.

“Ok, doll, I’ll take you out of your misery. Let’s switch. You take the bacon, I take the garlic and onions.” Bucky lifted his chopping board and passed it to Steve.

Steve breathed heavily, picking the knife again and trying his best to slice the bacon properly. “Bucky, this shit is half frozen!”

Bucky dropped the knife. “Ok, what now, Steve? Why are you still complaining?” He looked at Steve with both hands on his waist. “Look, it’s the best way to slice bacon. If it’s room temperature, it slides.”

“Well, when it’s frozen, it fucking freezes my hand.”

Bucky sighed and rolled his eyes. “Fine, whiny baby.” Bucky walked to Steve and took hold of his waist, pushing it to the kitchen counter and pinning him in place. Steve tensed up in his spot, Bucky was standing behind him with his hands on Steve’s hip. Fuck. Finally, Bucky let go of his waist and gripped both of his wrists, one on the knife, the other on the bacon.

“Fucking pay attention to me.” Well, he didn’t need to ask. Steve was blushing with just the proximity, feeling Bucky’s chest brushing his back, Bucky’s chin in his shoulder. “Spread your fingers like this,” Bucky readjusted Steve’s fingers on the meat, “now you point your knife like this...” he said, controlling Steve’s every move. _Ok, this has to be some kind of kink_ , Steve thought to himself. And goddammit, he liked that. “Slice this way. Again and again. Good boy, now keep it up.”

_Oh, he didn’t._

Bucky let go of Steve suddenly, and Steve would never admit he had to choke a gasp and disguise it with a cough. Bucky strode across the kitchen and grabbed his phone, typing something, while still managing to mix the content in the pan.

“You better not burn our sauce,” Steve warned. He turned to Steve with a grin. “What?” Steve asked.

“Nothing. Just Clint making fun of our aprons. I sent him a picture.”

“You talking to Clint?” Steve arched a brow.

“Yeah, texts. Pass me the bacon.” Bucky held his hand in the air, waiting for the chopping board.

“So, you’re friends now?” Steve asked, setting his knife down and crossing his arms.

“… Yeah.” Bucky responded absently, his attention focused on the phone in his hands.

Steve sighed, turning back to his task. He wasn’t jealous of Bucky having a friendship of his own with Clint. Of course not. Besides, Bucky had already known Clint. _But they didn’t have this friendship before,_ Steve’s mind kept trying to argue.

Anyway, Bucky was not a fucking robot. They were both under that messed-up agreement for a year, so it was quite alright to spend some time together and, eventually, end up meeting each other’s friends. That was just a consequence of all that, right? And Steve was fine with that, _right?_

Moreover, he would never have the right to be jealous. Bucky wasn’t his property; their relationship was a contract.

And in regard to that contract, Steve was feeling like he had been taking advantage of the situation. Guilt and arousal had been an emotion cycle inside his head.

They had interacted more and more during these last couple of weeks. In fact, Steve had been sleeping much better now, too, considering the pillows and blankets that made their way to the living room couch. They haven’t left the spot during the time, spending their nights squeezing into the tiny space with two perfectly fine beds upstairs.

The first few nights they had always come up with a weak excuse to stay in the room, like watching TV until it’s too late and they’re too tired to go upstairs — even if they weren’t watching TV at all. Then, they wouldn’t say anything and just wait for one another to show signs of tiredness, so they’d lay there cuddling and just sleep.

Now they were actually inviting each other.

“Hey,” Bucky said one night, coming downstairs dressed in some loose sweatpants and an old T-shirt. He yawned so cutely. “Let’s sleep now, ‘m drowsy already.” He turned off the television and nestled himself on Steve’s chest. And Steve couldn’t help it when Bucky was spreading Steve’s legs with his own just to cuddle up to him like that was fucking normal. For fuck’s sake, he was in his bedroom the minute before, why would he come to the couch just to snuggle? _With Steve?_

Steve knew it was wrong. It was weird and abnormal, but he would just pretend he wasn’t hard as a rock and bury his face on Bucky’s hair. Bucky would slide his face to the space between Steve’s jaw and collarbone, sometimes brushing his lips on Steve’s skin and making him shiver all night.

In the mornings, Steve woke up alone with sunlight on his head and the sound of someone hitting a punching bag in the balcony. He felt guilty, because the night before always seemed like a memory of someone who had been drunk and had made  some stupid decisions. Stupid decisions like cuddling all night with his fake-boyfriend, even when his desire to cuddle and his bodily reactions to it were anything but fake.

“Do you like bacon?” Bucky asked, drawing Steve out of his thoughts.

“Yeah.”

“Wanna strip?”

Steve glanced at Bucky, seriously questioning his sanity, when he saw the bacon was ready and Bucky was actually offering him a strip, very aware of where Steve’s thoughts had gone considering the smirk on his face.

Steve rolled his eyes. “Don’t tease me.”

“Well, tease me back,” Bucky shrugged. He threw a slice of bacon inside his mouth and held another one in the air for Steve to catch.

 _Alright, pal, you asked._ Steve stepped forward and, suddenly, put his mouth around Bucky’s fingers, catching the bacon with his teeth. Bucky stood still like he was frozen, his gaze fixed on the spot in his fingers where Steve was doing obscene things with his lips. Steve let the tip of his tongue swipe over the pad of Bucky’s fingers, sucking lightly the flavor out of his skin. When he finished, he backed off, cleaning his mouth with the back of his hand.

Steve noticed Bucky was having trouble breathing.

“That was mean,” he slowly muttered.

“Then maybe I know how to tease back,” Steve replied.

“Maybe you do.” Bucky turned to the stove, blinking a couple of times before he started mixing the contents of the pan again.

They had been watching movies together and cooking since Bucky decided to teach Steve how to not starve to death while also not spending his life ordering food. When Bucky left early for the movie set, he would leave a cup of coffee from Starbucks for Steve. Now their Instagram accounts were full of domestic pictures of each other, like Bucky cooking or a snap of Steve singing, because now Steve could sing almost any popular song from The Police, A-ha and Michael Jackson.

Steve was getting used to going out in public and pretending with Bucky. But getting used to it didn’t mean it was getting any easier. Bucky’s proximity always caused Steve to hold his breath. He could control all the touches and inside jokes they shared in the presence of others, but what Steve couldn’t control was the way his body reacted to it.

When it came to Bucky, Steve had no control at all.

“Steve, set the table.” Bucky ordered, snapping Steve out of his thoughts.

“How do you say it?” Steve hummed back, a devious smile playing on his lips.

Bucky rolled his eyes. “Set the _fucking_ table, baby.” He glanced at Steve with a smirk. “Please.”

Bucky called Steve “baby” when they were pretending. Or joking. Still, the way Bucky used to say it always gave Steve chills.

“You’re not the boss of me.” Steve said. “But since I’m that nice I’ll do it, _baby.”_

Bucky might as well had turned into a solid rock from how still he got. The woody spoon froze midair in an action interrupted by his surprise to Steve’s words. He cleared his throat. “You can’t call me that.”

“Why? You do it all the time.” Steve chuckled, setting the plates on the raised bar..

“Yeah, but.” Bucky stopped, frowning and licking his lips. He was thinking, which meant Steve had trapped him. “But I’m playing with you.”

“I’m playing too.”

A troubled look crossed Bucky’s eyes before they settled in Steve’s figure. “Are you just playing with me?”

“No,” Steve said quickly, because that kind of question could go both ways, and of course, Steve went the most dangerous one. A voice inside his head was saying _buddy, you’re about to cross a thin line with no turning back_. “Yes. I don’t know.” Steve shook his head, truly conflicted. “What do you want me to say?”

Bucky’s expression darkened and he fixed his gaze on the stove for a long time. He shook his head off and picked up the pan, setting it on the counter. “Nothing.”

 _There you go making Bucky uncomfortable once again, loser._ Apparently, Steve lacked the ability to keep his big mouth shut.

Steve complimented the ravioli and Bucky nodded in reply. They ate dinner in an awkward silence. At some point, Bucky’s phone started to ring loudly on the kitchen counter. He got up and checked the screen.

“Hm, the photographer is calling me...” he said in a tone closer to a question than to a statement. Bucky excused himself from the kitchen, leaving Steve alone with his now cold raviolis and guilty thoughts. He came back some minutes later with a scowl on his face.

“So, what was it?” Steve asked.

“Seems like he needs to photoshop something... said he needed some pictures of my face for it. I’ll be back in a couple minutes, don’t think is gonna take long.” Bucky picked his keys and his coat on the hall.

Steve finished his dinner and collected the plates. He decided to wash the dishes and store the leftovers, and after a while when, Bucky still hadn’t come home, Steve turned on the TV.

The clock ticked. Steve was alone at home for God only knew how long before Bucky showed any trace of coming home. He sent a text asking if it was everything okay and checked his phone at an embarrassing number of times to see if he got any replies or lost phone calls, but his notifications were empty.

So, Steve decided to distract himself with his new sketchbook, trying to finish his recent sketch of a genderless couple. Well, at least at first he tried to finish them but the drawing got away from him a bit, considering the way Steve absently started to give them masculine forms. The figures were holding each other with their arms tangled, their mouths connected as one.

Steve sighed. He wanted that for his life, someday. To build a real relationship. Not that he couldn’t do it right now, but there was the contract… which wouldn’t stop him, but, well. He just did not want to bring any more mess to it all. And he hoped that was a plausible enough answer to deceive himself of the real reason he wasn’t trying to date anyone while living with Bucky.

As Steve sketched, the first man’s hands got lost in the matted hair of the second one, while the second was holding the first’s wrists. Steve started to give details to their frames, adding lines and curves and shadows, defining the second man’s razor-sharp cheekbones, and adding an Adonis V heading to an unexplored place which was covered by loose sweatpants.

He was focusing so hard on adding details to the second man’s body it took him some time to realize that figure was too familiar for his liking. It was better not to continue that sketch.

Steve didn’t notice how late it was when he decided to take his spot on the couch, too tired to wait up for Bucky. He got under the covers, closed his eyes, and almost instantly fell into a light sleep.

His eyes snapped open with the soft crack of the front door, alerting him about Bucky’s arrival. He looked at the clock on the wall, noticing it was already a bit past 01:00 a.m. He lifted his frame to say something, but Bucky had already headed to the bathroom and closed the door behind him.

He waited and waited, laying back on the couch. But he was tired and Bucky was taking so much time in the shower that Steve didn’t noticed he fell asleep again, until his eyes suddenly opened to the feeling of a presence near him. He looked up. It was 2:34 a.m.

Steve took in the image of a freshly showered Bucky, his hair still damp between his fingers, elbows resting on his knees, his curving, shirtless figure seated on the other couch. Even in the dark Steve could see his blank stare.

He couldn’t help but wonder if Bucky was questioning what Steve’s big mouth had let slip, about not playing when he flirted with Bucky. Steve was questioning that himself. He knew he was already madly addicted to something in Bucky, and maybe, just _maybe_ because of it he was taking advantage of that weird friendship of theirs, sleeping together and teasing to satisfy his craving. He wasn’t playing with Bucky, no, he would never.

But these uncertain things, especially those fragile newborn habits covered with the _it’s just joking_ excuse, should never be said. But then, Steve _had_ to open his big mouth.

Did Bucky want it to be just playing with each other or not?

Because if Bucky wasn’t interested in more then Steve was letting his feelings get the best of him when it came to cuddling and acting like a couple with Bucky, and Steve was embarrassed by that. Being fooling himself.

“I’m sorry,” Steve said as he stood up, catching Bucky’s attention. “I’m going to bed.”

He turned his back to the other man, but captured movement in the corner of his eye that made him look again. Bucky got up, his arms dropped on each side of his body, and that’s when Steve realized Bucky was subtly trembling. “Buck, are you okay?”

Steve touched his arm with one hand and lifted his chin with the other. Bucky stared at him and frowned, saying nothing, but stepping forward like he wanted more contact from Steve. Steve held his arms around Bucky’s figure, the flood of the other man’s scent filling Steve with heat.

“If you don’t wanna talk, it’s fine,” Steve assured him, quietly. “Just want to know what I can do to make you feel okay.”

Then Steve felt a slight push towards the couch where they routinely slept. Steve slowly took a few steps back and lowered his body to the sofa. He supported their combined weight with his elbow, while Bucky, with his hands clenched in Steve’s shirt fabric, laid on top of him, knees tangled with Steve’s thighs, head resting on Steve’s collarbone.

Steve pulled the blanket over them, covering their bodies.

Something inside his chest was screaming, a mix of both excitement and confusion that Steve didn’t understand.

 

**Sunday, August 16** ** th ** **, 2015**

 

Before Steve even opened his eyes, he felt the soft touch of the morning’s sunlight on his skin. He snuggled absently, too caught up in the warm feeling that filled him from his head to toes.

He and Bucky were face to face, though that Bucky was still deep in his sleep. Steve took his time to analyze Bucky in that vulnerable state. His peaceful expressions were a far cry from the teasing ones Steve was used to seeing on his face all the time, as if those mocking smiles were a mask he wore while awake. His long lashes were casting shadows under his eyes, while his soft, reddish lips parted allowing Steve to feel his morning breath. It made Steve’s morning wood twitch.

All of these days they had slept together, Steve had never woken up with Bucky still right there. Perhaps now he understood why Bucky deprived him of the opportunity. It was so fucking arousing it should be a crime.

He decided to get out of bed before it got out of hand. Getting his wallet, keys and a cap from the coffee table, Steve quietly made his way out of the apartment. The warm NYC summer wind hit Steve’s senses as soon as he was out of the building, heading to the Starbucks across the street.

Steve was about to place his order for their usual coffees, when a highly colored poster at the back of the store caught his attention. Steve smirked, tucking the cap’s brim to cover more of his face while deciding to get the limited edition drink on the poster.

He quickly made his way back to their flat, leaving his wallet and keys on the table and heading back to the living room. Steve’s eyes fell on the empty couch, the tangled covers and blankets left behind were the only evidence of the improvised bed they had shared for the past four weeks.

Steve shifted to look at Bucky’s figure sitting at the raised bar. His back was covered with rays of sunlight that escaped the curtain’s reach, and the contrast of the shadows and points of light on his muscles was breathtaking. As soon as Bucky noticed Steve’s presence in the room, he dropped whatever he was holding and stretched his back, the movement of his arms tensing driving Steve insane.

_Fucking temptation._

_“_ Morning,” Bucky half yawed, half moaned, the word leaving the deepest part of his throat. _That fucking husky tone_. “Where were you?”

Steve cleared his throat, trying to clear his mind as well. “Getting us some coffee.” He lifted the bag on his right hand as a way to prove the veracity of his statement, before putting its content on the counter.

“Oh, nice!” Bucky’s eyes sparkled. “Thought I’d have to live with your muddy-tasting coffee.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Well, I _have_ to live with your muddy ass every day and you don’t see me complaining, do you?” He grabbed his espresso, leaving the sparkly pink and blue cup in front of Bucky and nodding at it. “Here’s yours.”

Bucky gasped. “What’s that?”

“Found a way for you to be even gayer.” A crooked smile played on Steve’s lips. “Unicorn frappuccino. Limited edition.”

Bucky gripped at the cup and took a sip quickly, his eyes widening and his mouth stained with pink crème. “Sweet Jesus, this is amazing.”

“That’s the nectar of the gay gods, pal.”

Bucky grinned sassily, taking another sip while staring at Steve. “Speaking of gay gods, look what I found on the coffee table.” He took a familiar little red book from his lap and showed it to Steve.

The way-too-familiar tangled couple on the sketch he had drawn the night before was printed on the paper sheet, the figures almost mocking Steve now in daylight for his silliness. Steve felt his guts burning, the drawing’s Bucky-ish traces clear and ending Rogers’ every chance of arguing it wasn’t Bucky who was the source of inspiration.

“You didn’t,” the words spilled through his clenched teeth, unable to process the amount humiliation he was feeling.

“You mean finding your secret drawings?” Bucky’s smile only grew wider and even more devious, if that was possible.

Steve grunted, his feet taking a step forward and his arms reaching out for the book before he realized what he was doing. That seemed to only increase Bucky’s amusement, considering the way he stretched the arm holding the sketchpad behind his frame and laughing at Steve’s struggle.

“Give it back, asshole.”

“Make me,” Bucky teased him, taking a few steps farther from Steve and in the direction of the living room. “Besides, why would I give up such a masterpiece? Look at how marvelously you captured all my sexy featur-”

His phrase was cut by a furious Steve leaning in like a predator ready to pounce. Bucky’s laughter grew louder, as he started to run from Steve’s reach.

“You should really keep doing this, pal. I look damn hot through your eyes.”

Steve could feel himself blush.

“Isn’t _that_ enough?” he complained, following Bucky and doing his best attempts to end his humiliation.

“Of course not! Man, you’ve got some mad skills.” Bucky sighed and stopped by the couch, his face growing serious at Steve’s tone. As if he _really_ wanted Rogers to believe he found that stupid sketch good work. “I want to be your muse. In the manliest way possible, obviously,” Bucky added.

Steve chuckled. At least he got Bucky to stop looking at that damned drawing. “Alright, Mona Lisa.” Steve caught the sketchbook from Bucky’s hands and put it under his arm, turning his back to the other man.

“I’m serious, draw me,” Bucky said.

Steve stared at Bucky. “No!”

“Why? You already did!”

“Precisely because of that.” His ears and cheeks were burning.

“Well, it seems to me you want some inspiration, maybe a live model. Someone like, let me think? Me,” he deadpanned and put his hands on his hips.

“Oh, yeah? And how would you want me to do that?” He couldn’t handle the thought of drawing that man shaped as a Greek god sculpted in marble. He’d die for it and he would die _doing_ it.

Bucky looked at Steve for a couple of seconds, his eyes a window to so many thoughts Steve that wasn’t able to identify a single emotion. Then Bucky blinked, sitting at the edge on the arm of the couch next to him. He locked eyes with Steve once again before grabbing the hem of his T-shirt and pulling it off in one single movement. “Like that.” Bucky bit his lip, temptingly.

_Freaking motherfucker._

Bucky was clearly teasing Steve. And he was doing one hell of a job.

 

James Barnes posted a new photo 15 minutes ago

483,756 likes

@JamesBarnesOfficial: Steve’s sketch of me.

View all  332,467 comments

@StuckyOnYou: Steve is the new Michelangelo and James is a Greek god

@StuckySlut: Omggg, Steve is such an artist!

@JamesBarnesOfficial in reply to @StuckySlut: You should see the other drawings he thinks he’s hiding from me!

 

< align="justify"> **Friday, September 11** **th** **, 2015**

 

“Superhero... Drama... Action... Sci-fi...” Fury was throwing a bunch of scripts in the trash can while Steve spun himself in Nick’s office chair. “None of these matters now.”

“What? Why?” Steve leaned on his spot, frowning.

“I have something new for you, Rogers.” He opened one of the biggest drawers of his office desk and grabbed a pile of scripts, dropping all of the content with a loud thud onto the surface of the desk. “It’s time to get you your first Academy Award.”

“The Oscars,” Steve mouthed.

“Precisely,” Fury agreed. “This is a selection of scripts sent to me from the best directors.”

“And which one is mine?” Steve asked.

Fury opened a mocking smile. “I’m not your bitch, Rogers. Read’em all and choose.”

Steve took a look at the pile again. _It was huge._ “Fury, I’m gonna spend a century reading this.”

“Not my problem.” Fury went to his office’s door and opened it like an invitation for Steve to leave. “Although, I strongly recommend you take less than a month, since most of these directors have a deadline and Hollywood is full of pretty faces like yours.”

Steve went straight to Peggy’s house after meeting Fury. It was like a tradition, all of his previous roles were chosen with the help of Peggy and Angie, because there was no better company to read endless scripts with other than them. They knew what were Steve’s favorite types of roles, what kind of characters Steve would fit perfectly.

So, when Steve showed up at their apartment with his arms holding a pile of paper, Angie welcomed him with a carton of ice cream.

“Oh, no, it’s that time of the year again,” Peggy said, closing her laptop screen and dragging herself to the couch, to join the task.

“Except that this time I have...” Steve started counting the scripts. Bad idea. “Thirty instead of three.”

“Shit. Fury’s giving you a script overdose.” Peggy distributed the first three among the them. “And by you, I mean _us,_ ” she added.

“Said he was giving me an Academy Award, but I can only see a headache in a near future.”

They managed to discard two works and put aside one possible choice before the sunset. Steve drove back home with the remaining pile on the passenger’s seat. He pushed the apartment’s door with his foot and dropped the scripts on the nearest table.

“Honey, I’m home,” Steve hummed casually.

Obtaining no answer, Steve unconsciously frowned. Even though Bucky was often gone in the evenings for a little while due to his mysterious daily commitment, he should have been home by now. He bypassed the apartment’s hallway, arriving at their living room turned-shared-bedroom.

“Oh, hi there, sweetie! I’ve cooked you naked a _hot_ meal... just like me.” Clint’s voice greeted Steve as soon as he entered his visual range. Clint was half laying on the couch, his body sustained by his left elbow while his head rested against his lifted hand, the cheesiest meant-to-be sexy position ever. He winked at Steve and bit his bottom lip. Steve was sure that hellish image was going to haunt him until the end of times.

“Barton?” Steve asked, looking around like he was missing something. What the hell was Clint doing inside his house? “Hey... Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, dude, ‘m fine.” Clint nodded.

Steve nodded back, confused. “So, is there anything I could do for you?”

“Actually, I was just waiting for-”

The sound of footsteps on the loft stairs captured both of their attention, and Steve looked up to find Bucky in a black leather jacket that immediately stole all of the air inside his lungs. Bucky was also dressed in tight black pants — which drove Steve insane with the outline of his ass — and a white pair of sneakers.

“Oh, hey, buddy,” Bucky said, his features lighting up. He turned to Clint, shoving his hands in his pockets and licking his lips like they were suddenly dry. “Shall we go?”

“Where are you going?” Steve blurted out.

Clint smirked at him. “Out?” he replied with one arched eyebrow. “Why, jealous?” _Yes, actually._ “Relax, not gonna steal your boyfriend. I mean, only if he let me.” Bucky and Clint chuckled at the same time, making Steve even more pissed off, if that was possible. He didn’t like being mocked. “Just kiddin’. Let’s go, Buck.”

Bucky collected his keys and wallet on the coffee table. “We’re gonna grab a drink with some old friends.” He leaned to kiss Steve’s cheek. “Bye, baby.”

Steve stood in the middle of the room even after he heard the dry sound of the door being closed, still a little astonished with that whole strange situation. His friend and fake boyfriend were pals. Yes, he knew that. He was comfortable with that, right? But the let’s-grab-a-drink-together was a whole new deal. The way Bucky was so fine all dressed up, licking his bottom lip and exchanging gazes with Clint, hands inside pockets. It was...

That proximity between Bucky and Clint was making Steve feel keyed up and he hated every bit of it. His mind couldn’t seem to process and put feelings into words.

But he had to accept Clint and Bucky’s relationship, of course. It didn’t concern him, after all.

Steve decided to occupy his mind with his own tasks and duties, trying to avoid the anxiety that the simple act of thinking too much about his fake-boyfriend brought. He sat at his work desk and decided to resume reading the scripts, only to give up, frustrated. He couldn’t find the concentration he needed, and by the time he was in the middle of the script, Steve found out he had no idea which character he was supposed to play.

That story sucked anyway.

Too stressed to cook, Steve ordered take-out. He watched TV. When that got boring, he drew shitty stuff that ended up in the trash can. Eventually, he just wandered around the house as the time passed by until he realized Bucky wasn’t going to sleep with him that night. He took his pillow back to his bed, opening a hole inside his chest.

He decided to take a shower, as if the water was going to scrub away that itchy feeling on his skin. Steve ended up staying too long underneath the streaming water, only caring enough to put on some underwear before throwing his body on his long-missed bed.

Sleeping in his own bed would have been comforting, if it wasn’t for that missing feeling. Empty. Steve curled up on his blanket, wishing he could drift away.

He didn’t.

 

**Saturday, September 12** ** th ** **, 2015**

 

Steve didn’t remember falling asleep, but he must have, because the next time he opened his eyes, it was already morning and he felt achy and stiff. He turned his head on the pillow only to confirm the emptiness of the other side of his large bed.

He got dressed and packed his screenplays to go to Peggy’s house. When he got downstairs, Steve heard the angry sound of someone hitting a punching bag in the balcony, and he was surprised to see Bucky. His expression was hard and his shirt was wet, skin dripping with sweat. It was the perfect view, but Steve felt the urge to look away. He should try to get Bucky out of his head, and spending some time at Peggy’s seemed a good plan, although that moment all he really wanted to do was to forget the previous night and stay with Bucky. Steve stumbled into the corner of the table right after that, catching Bucky’s attention.

Bucky’s expression changed as soon as he spotted Steve, opening into a warming smile. “Hey,” he said, the heat flooding Steve’s chest and Steve didn’t like that at all, “morning.”

“Hi,” Steve replied.

“I made coffee.” Bucky dropped his boxing gloves and headed to the kitchen, setting two mugs in the counter. He handed one to Steve.

“Thanks.” Steve looked at the contents of his mug.

“Did you sleep alright?”

 _No._ “Yeah.” _I didn’t sleep at all. I missed you_. “Did you and Clint have a good night?”

“Yeah, it was good.” Bucky nodded. He wished they could end the conversation just there, because he couldn’t take another moment of that hell. “Are you leaving?”

Steve finished drinking the coffee in his mug and put it inside the sink. “Yeah, Peggy and Angie are helping me choose a screenplay.”

“If you want, I can help you, too.”

 _Please_. “No, it’s fine.” _Stay._ Steve caught his keys and headed to the front door before he changed his mind.

 

PEOPLE:   _Actor Charles Xavier revels: “I had the courage to come out_ _because of Steve Rogers and James Barnes.” Check the full interview!_

 

**Monday, September 14** ** th ** **, 2015**

 

“Steve, you stink.”

He looked over the script he was reading only to find Peggy in a fine high waist pencil skirt and red lipstick, carrying a bag.

“Where are you going?” He sat on the couch he had made into his bed, and looked over his shoulder, finding Angie in the kitchen, just as well dressed as Peggy.

“Work, Steve. It’s Monday.”

“Already?” Steve looked around, realizing Peggy’s and Angie’s living room was a mess of papers and ice cream cartons. His shoes were nowhere to be seen, pants were stained with things he didn’t recognize, his hair was oily and he didn’t remember the last time he brushed his teeth.

“Yes, and you stink.”

Steve sighed and rubbed his eyes. “Alright. I’m gonna take a shower.”

“No, Steve. You’re going to take your car keys and head home.” Peggy promptly handed him his keys. “ _Home._ ”

“I can’t go home,” Steve said, looking innocent. “We still have a lot of scripts to read.”

“You can bring them later. Or tomorrow. Or the day after tomorrow. At least after you spend some time in your own bed.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Why?”

“Because…” Steve looked around, speechless. He didn’t have an excuse, really. In fact, he did have one, but he didn’t want to think about it. “I don’t know. I think Bucky is going out with someone.”

Peggy looked over to Angie and they exchanged meaningful glances that Steve wasn’t capable of decoding. Angie took his mug of hot chocolate and stood at Peggy’s side.

“So?” Peggy arched her brows. “Isn’t that the whole point of the agreement? You both are free to date whoever you want.”

_And I don’t like this at all. Not even a bit._

He couldn’t say he and Bucky had been sleeping together on the couch for days, and now they suddenly weren’t. Or, he could, but it would lead to  Peggy and Angie giving him a hard time for not telling them. They would probably also insinuate things Steve couldn’t deal with right now.

Steve was still dealing with the fact that they were no longer sleeping on the sofa together. He couldn’t deal with the fact that he could possibly be jealous, so he kept denying, reading screenplays and pretending that not going home — and by consequence, not seeing Bucky — was the master proof of not being jealous.

 _Shit, Peggy’s right,_ he realized.

The master proof of not being jealous was _going_ _home_.

“Whatever, you’re right.” Steve sighed.

He collected his stuff and drove home, only stopping by a café to buy breakfast.

The apartment was empty when he got home. He went into the kitchen to leave the paper bags of muffins and saw some crumpled papers on the corner of the counter. When he opened, he realized they were notes with Bucky’s calligraphy.

_Dinner is ready, I’m in my room if you need me_

_Lunch is in the fridge, have a meeting with Natasha but I’ll be back at 4._

_I made dinner._

The last one was just one scribbled word: _lunch._

Suddenly, Steve was not hungry for breakfast anymore. He went straight to the shower and stayed there for god knows how long.

Bucky arrived that night, and he probably knew Steve was home too, but they didn’t talk. Steve couldn’t tell if it was good or bad, but maybe it was the proof he needed to realize that what they had was a contract and the sleeping-together thing was just accommodation.

It was late when he finished reading a script — and discarding it —, so he decided to get a glass of water and sleep. The stairs were dark except for the flickering light coming from the living room. Bucky was in the couch, watching the TV on mute. The way his eyes gazed at the screen showed he wasn’t even paying attention.

“Why aren’t you sleeping?” Steve asked.

Bucky turned his head slightly to the side, but didn’t look at Steve. Instead, he stared at the ground. “Because I’m awake,” Bucky answered dryly.

“You have to go to the set tomorrow. You’ll be tired.”

“I already am.” He moved his gaze back to the TV.

“Why? Have you not been sleeping?” asked Steve worriedly.

Bucky shook his head. “You weren’t here.”

Steve’s brain was trying to fill Bucky’s lack of an answer. He ignored his brain and acted on impulse. “You weren’t here Friday.”

“I got home late, your things weren’t on the couch. Neither were you.”

Steve laughed bitterly. “What, were you expecting me to wait up for you without bothering to let me know when you’d be back?”

“Jesus, no, Steve. You’re not my fucking babysitter.”

“Glad we cleared that up.”

Angrily, Steve headed upstairs, and went to bed with his damned head full of thoughts.


	8. TAKE EIGHT

**Thursday, October 1** ** st ** **, 2015**

 

Steve heard muffled sounds of punching mixed with voices coming from his apartment when he arrived home from a meeting with Sam. The voices resolved themselves into two as he opened the door, one of them being Bucky’s. The other one was a lot more feminine and a bit familiar.

“Soldier!” the woman’s voice shouted.

“Get out of my way!” More punches followed that.

Steve stepped into the living room. Natasha was seated on the couch, focused on something on her laptop with her legs crossed, while on the balcony, on top of exercise mats, Bucky was advancing and dodging from punches of a blonde woman Steve recognized as Sharon, Bucky’s partner in his upcoming movie. In the furthest corner of the balcony, Bucky’s personal trainer, Thor, stood with his arms crossed.

“You don’t have to do this! You were good-”

“I’m not him,” Bucky pushed the woman aside. “And I don’t want to be. I’m the Asset.”

She used his arm as a support to hold onto and jump on his shoulders, quickly tangling her legs around Bucky’s neck in an immobilizing movement, which didn’t seem to make any difference, since Bucky was still in total control. Either way, that woman really did her workout homework.

 _Oh_.

Steve realized. They were rehearsing.

He placed his keys and wallet on the raised bar with a slight thud.

Which seemed to caught Bucky’s attention to Steve’s presence, his eyes darting to him for a split second. Steve could swear he saw a flick of surprise in his gaze before he lost his focus and tripped on his own feet, falling forward with Sharon. She grunted as her back hit the mattress with Bucky on top of her.

“Dammit, James!” She untangled her legs as Bucky lifted his torso with his elbows. “What happened?”

 _“Shit_ , _”_ Bucky hissed, closing his eyes for a second. “I’m sorry, are you hurt?”

“No, I’m fine, but you’re obviously not.”

Bucky stood up and held out one hand to Sharon, to help her up.

Bucky’s strands were tied back messily and he was dressed in sweatpants and a light jacket, but Bucky was absurdly attractive to Steve at any point. However, beneath the thin layer of amateur makeup, there were dark circles around his eyelids. His posture was that of a spent person, someone who hasn’t been getting their fair share of rest.

Steve wasn’t far behind that himself.

“Let’s do it one more time, okay?” he said, squaring his shoulders.

Sharon stepped forward again. “Fine. Ready? From ‘I’m the Asset’.”

Bucky nodded and hardened his eyes in a way Steve was addicted to in Bucky’s performances, and now that he got to see it live, all he could feel was a pinching sensation crawling under his skin.

The past days had been a complete mess when it came to Steve’s feelings, and solving it had been a total disaster. He hadn’t been talking to Bucky since their last fight. Steve didn’t know what the fuck to do, and the incessant feeling of something not being right was always right there. He kept trying to distract himself with little things, but they were never enough.

Steve kept trying to occupy his mind, but he never really felt at peace. So, he was just drowning himself with random tasks to forget Bucky’s presence and pretend he wasn’t feeling like shit every time he went to bed.

All this because they changed their fucking routine. Because anger usually gets the best of him when he’s frustrated.

He didn’t wanna talk about it. He didn’t wanna think about it.

But still, it wasn’t like he and Bucky weren’t talking _at all_. Some interactions were needed, or Natasha would rip off their heads. As the PR stunt requested, they showed up at events together, holding hands and everything. But behind closed doors, their interactions were merely a civil acknowledgement of each other’s presence.

“I’m not him. And I don’t want to be. I’m the Asset.” Bucky pushed Sharon again and she did the same movement as before, with more stability this time. He held her by the waist and made some steps toward the balcony’s table, as she elbowed him in the head multiple times, without really using strength.

Bucky threw the woman on the table while her legs were still tangled around his head. He pinned her by her neck, face contorted.

“Soldier, _stop!”_

“I’m the Asset and you don’t know half of the things that I’ve done. Half of the people that I’ve killed. I carry them with me. I’m not good.”

“I don’t care if you think you’re a bad person, because I know the real soldier beneath this cold armor,” she coughed, pretending she was choking with her fragile fingers grasping Bucky’s forearms. Bucky let go of Sharon as she untangled her legs from around him, and he stepped backwards with wide eyes. “And he’s kind, breathtaking, and worthy of love,” Sharon declared, finding her balance again. She grabbed his hands in hers, tugging him in, and lacing their fingers together. “I fell for the Winter Soldier, I fell for _you_.”

Bucky leaned towards Sharon’s touch and she cupped his face as they were going for a kiss. They only brushed lips for less than a second before they broke apart. “The intensity was good, but you need to pay attention to your lines,” Sharon said with a frown.

“Yeah,” Bucky nodded. He closed his eyes for a moment. “Do you want to practice the kiss?”

“Fine by me.”

_We’re not lovers._

Steve turned his back to the scene, leaving the room with loud steps like a spoiled five-year-old would. He heard someone following him, but he was too busy slamming the apartment’s front door to mind checking up who it was.

He realized that, first, his hands were closed into fists, and second, they were trembling. Steve couldn’t bring himself to admit what he was feeling.

 _Not. Your. Business._ He breathed _. Bucky is not your business._

Steve was laying his back against the wall in front of his door when it suddenly opened to a very pissed Natasha. Her eyes were burning with such intensity that Steve felt it sink down his spine.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” she thundered, closing the door and crossing her arms.

“I’ll tell you what’s wrong,” Steve snorted bitterly. “That girl and her pathetically weak-acting skills who’s standing on my balcony-”

“No, Steve,” Natasha snapped. “I mean what’s wrong with _you._ She has nothing to do with this.”

 _Well,_ Steve pondered _, that was one hell of a question_. How could he put into a coherent set of words the mixed feelings that even himself couldn’t wrap his mind around it? All he knew was that he was pissed. Fucking pissed.

“Why do you even care, it’s my shit anyway.” Steve looked away, crossing his arms.

“I do care about James,” she snapped back, getting closer to him like a predator trapping its victim. “Those big dark circles around his eyes; the way he shows how much he’s exhausted and how much he’s trying to keep up with his duties: the work, the contract, _you_ ,” she counted on her fingers. “I know whose fault it is,” Natasha added, an accusatory note hovering her tone.

Steve was out of words. His mouth opened like he wanted to answer her, but his mind was moving way too fast to form coherent arguments. Clearly, Romanoff was more than just their relationship adviser.

“Acknowledge your feelings.” She opened the door again, her jaw tightened, and got back into the apartment.

 _Acknowledge your feelings,_ Steve snorted loudly. _What a pretty way to say get your shit together._

 

NEWS: _Steve Rogers and his boyfriend James Barnes donate large amount of money to NGO that helps LGBT people in vulnerable situations._

 

**Monday, October 12th, 2015**

 

Steve opened his eyes that morning with a loud banging on his door, incessant and unbearable.

“What the fu...” he groaned. Steve covered his face with the pillow, until his brain cells had made enough connections to wake up and become in charge of his body.

He made his way to the door and opened it, only to find Bucky at his doorstep with arms closed and a bored expression. Bucky glanced at Steve, who was only dressed in boxers.

“Why the hell are not you dressed?” Bucky questioned, surprised.

“I’m sleeping,” Steve replied with a frown. He doesn’t speak with the man for days and that’s how he shows up at his door? “I mean, not right now, obviously, and if you don’t mind, I plan to go back to it.”

Steve left the door open and turned around, walking towards his bed again.

Bucky entered the room after Steve. “We’ll be late! Natasha is downstairs waiting for us in the car.”

Steve rolled his eyes, clearly not in the mood for Natasha. “Late for what, exactly?”

“The photoshoot, Steve!”

“What photoshoot are you talking about?” When Steve turned to look at Bucky, he saw Romanoff’s sharp expression staring right back at him from the doorway.

_Not Angry Natasha, please._

The woman cleared her throat. “The New York Fog photoshoot,” she said, slow and clear, a bit of anger hovering her tone, “where your big ass is supposed to be in fifteen minutes.”

Realization hit Steve like a wrecking ball. He widened his eyes as he remembered Natasha specifically dragging Bucky and him to a meeting to update both of them of the following events they should attend. One of them included a famous brand of masculine clothing requesting them as couple to pose for the new season’s clothes. He had quickly forgotten, because Steve was having a bad day — a bad month — and decided that everything involving Bucky should be put in the deepest part of his mind, because of the fucked-up contract. He shouldn’t get involved. Not too much. Not more than he already was.

 _“Shit.”_ Steve went straight to the bathroom without minding if the door was open or not. “Fuck, I still need to shave and where the fuck is my hairbrush-”

“Rogers, don’t mind this shit, they have makeup and hairstylists there! Just put some damn clothes on and drag your ass to the car now!”

Bucky followed Natasha and she slammed the door on her way out to make her point. Steve quickly managed to get dressed in a decent outfit before going down the stairs two steps at a time. He grabbed his coat and hurried to the door where both Natasha and Bucky were waiting for him. Natasha looked slightly annoyed, as well as Bucky with his hands shoved in his jeans’ pockets

Once inside the car that was meant to take them to the studio, Steve noticed, from his spot in the backseat, Romanoff’s shoulders in the passenger’s relaxing their tension for the first time that day. Steve turned his gaze back to where his thigh almost touched Bucky’s due to the limited space shared by the two men. He could feel heat emanating off of Bucky. Their hands were resting beside one another, but Bucky’s head was turned at the opposite direction, gaze lost in the passing landscape through the window.

Steve was starting to accept that he was indeed feeling something, but he didn’t like it, whatever it was, so all of his efforts were directed to trying not to make eye contact and pretend he didn’t gave a fuck about Bucky’s presence.

Of course, the irrational part of Steve seemed to have a point of view a lot different than that. It was hungry for any touch, and it was using any excuse to slip and slightly brush their skin together. He hated the way he loved it.

The car arrived soon enough at the studio’s address, and immediately after entering the large gallery-like environment, Steve and Bucky found themselves mobbed by hairstylists, makeup artists and designers that dragged them into different directions.

The results of the beauty crew’s job made Steve review his opinion in magic, considering how they changed his worn-out image and turned his figure in a confident, clean, and healthy-looking man. The dark circles around his eyes were covered with flawless-effect makeup, his beard was trimmed to a look that made Steve seem more mature – and sexier, as he was used to hearing when he rocked that look – and his hair was silky. The outfit was completed by the expensive black suit of the season brand’s new collection.

Everything was happening with such speed and frantic motion, probably due to their delay, Steve knew, that as soon as he left the dressing room Steve heard his name being shouted yet again.

“Mr. Rogers!” a short, skinny man dressed in black, button shirt, matched with black jeans and black shoes said. He had earrings, round glasses and a wide smile in his face. “Nice to meet you, I’m David Jones, the photographer. Thank you so much for coming! I was hoping to work with you for so long, and now it’s even better, because I get to work with you _and_ your boyfriend! Do you need anything? We’re in a hurry here but if you need food, water or anything at all I’m sure we can arrange that. Otherwise, are we good to take our places and get this thing going?”

Steve thanked him and declined the offer of refreshments. David nodded, gesturing Steve to follow him. They entered an exceptionally bright room and Steve found himself surrounded by several people holding cameras, audiovisual equipment and supports.

“Okay, over there, please,” David added, settling on his spot behind a huge camera centralized to the blank white background hanging against the wall.

Bucky was already standing on his spot, dressed in a very elegant dark-blue suit himself, even though he was with its vest exposed over a white button shirt, the blazer hanging in the coolest way possible on his left hand. His hair was tied back in a neat manbun matching his outfit style. It was breathtaking, but Steve tried not to let that affect him too much.

“Let’s start with the basics. First, I’m gonna need you to stand by each other’s side in order to fully display the outfits, gentleman,” David asked, focusing on them through the small camera’s screen.

Steve approached Bucky, holding his shirt’s cuff while Bucky stayed on his previous position with the blazer hovering the ground. Both of them had their eyes focused on the camera.

“Hm, alright,” David said after some shots, a puzzled expression printed on his features. “Clothes? Please, bring the second outfit designed for Mr. Barnes and Rogers.” As some assistants ran from one side to another helping Steve and Bucky to change clothes quickly, David continued: “Do you guys need something? Water? Is the temperature fine? Ok. Maybe let’s try something else. James, dear, would you mind standing closer to Steve, turn to his side, as in a profile picture?” he suggested.

“Sure,” Bucky promptly answered before following the tasks, burying his hands inside his coat’s pockets. Steve’s eyes never left the lens’ direction as he himself adjusted at a new position, although he very much wanted. This time around, bending his left leg and projecting his belt to the front by slightly pulling his jeans’ pockets.

David took a couple of shots using it, before asking to change outfits again.

Steve noticed Romanoff at the back of the room with her arms crossed and eyes hovering over his image like a hawk looking for its prey. He knew she was analyzing him.

“Everything set? Great... I’m gonna put some music on so you guys can relax a bit. I mean, I get it that’s a very vulnerable place to be in and all, but I need you to project the intimacy of the happy couple I know you are. So, whenever you’re ready... something more touchy.”

Steve didn’t know how to answer that besides with the bitter laugh that was stuck on his throat, but at the end he didn’t even need to, considering how Bucky aggressively threw his arm around Steve’s shoulder, resting his weight on Steve as if he was already impatient with all that. Steve grabbed Bucky’s hand resting on his shoulder with a little too much strength than needed and fake-smiled, ready for another flash.

“Good,” David nodded while he took some shots. “What if- James, you hug Steve from behind? Like helping him take off his coat, you know? And at the same time whispering near his ear?”

Bucky moved to behind Steve suddenly, getting hold of Steve’s coat and sliding it off Steve’s shoulders. Bucky pushed his body on Steve’s back and moved his mouth next to Steve’s ear.

 _Oh._ His sensitive ear.

“So good,” David praised. Steve turned his head slightly to the side, coming face to face with Bucky. He couldn’t stop his eyes from darting to Bucky’s mouth. “Keep it like that, guys,” David added between shots, “this is what I want: there intimate glances…”

“At least pretend you like me,” Bucky muttered, his eyes magnetically glued to Steve’s as if nothing could break the tension. Steve couldn’t read him even like that. “Can’t believe it’s that hard for you.”

Steve was left speechless for a brief second, while another round of camera flashes came from David. The photographer seemed to like the tension that emanated from them, but it was agony for Steve. It was like Bucky was playing some sort of sick mind game with him, and frustration was boiling inside Steve.

“Why, is it easy for you?” Steve shuffled his shoulders and made Bucky’s hands let go of him, breaking the eye contact and whatever was happening between the two of them. Steve lifted his eyes to David. “I need some air.”

David looked surprised for a moment, but quickly nodded. “Of course! If you need something, you can ask one of my assistants. Speaking of that, Kevin, could you bring the next outfit for James? I’d like to do some shots of him alone.”

Steve felt Natasha’s heavy stare on him the whole way to his dressing room, knowing too well she was going to rant at him as soon as he closed the door. He was already sighing the second before she even started.

“Don’t you hear a word I say?” she thundered.

“What now, Natasha?” Steve rolled his eyes -- a dangerous act considering the way Natasha was, she might slap him right there.

“Don’t try this with me, you’re damn sure of the shit you’re doing out there, and you know you are specifically expected to act like a couple with James.” Natasha stuck her index finger in the middle of Steve’s chest, her words coming through clenched teeth. “Pictures. For God’s sake, it’s not a big deal, you’ve done this before, it’s just acting!”

“Yes, but I wasn’t-” _acting before,_ he completed mentally, getting lost in the middle of the sentence. Mostly because she cut him.

“Wasn’t what, pissed with James?”

“I can’t do this,” he snapped. “You knew it, Fury knew it. I can’t.”

“Yeah, Steve, it’s crystal clear you can’t deal with the tornado happening inside of your head, but this is business. Could you do your job?”

“You don’t know what’s going on.”

“And I don’t care.” Natasha shrugged and opened a smirk on her lips. “I’m a couple therapist and you’re not even acting like a couple. But yeah, not my area of expertise.” She turned her back to Steve and walked out of the dressing room, closing the door after she left.

Steve grunted. He threw his body on the couch and closed his eyes. He was feeling a mix of anger and energy crawling its way beneath his skin, as if the words Natasha said to him were getting some effect after all. Like it was igniting something.

She wanted him to do his job, right? Then Steve was going to do it.

Fuck it if Bucky had someone, or if he was not interested. Fuck it if he was all professional on him and made Steve feel like obsessing over him.

Is that what he wanted? Professionalism? Steve could do it. He sure would. Bucky was not the only one with bloody good acting skills. If it was that easy for Bucky to pretend he liked Steve, then Steve was gonna play it like it was easy for him to pretend too.

Steve knew how to play romance. He knew how to play Bucky’s games. He knew how to play the sexiest, most tempting boyfriend.

When Steve changed himself to the next outfit and finally arrived at the set, David was taking shots of Bucky in a fit, grey suit, perfectly made for his measurements. He was sitting on a large leather couch with spread legs and elbows on his knees, looking at the camera with an obscene expression.

That man was the death of him.

Steve was also in a suit, which felt suddenly tighter than a minute before. Bucky’s and David’s attention was caught by Steve’s movements. “Mr. Rogers, are you ready for another set of pictures? I brought this couch so we can vary a little, do something different, what do you think?”

“Great,” Steve replied with a sudden enthusiasm. “Do you have any ideas?”

“Yeah, I was thinking about something with you two on the couch and, I don’t know, maybe someone pulling on each other’s clothes?” David gestured as if he was picturing the image. “This takes a little attention to the piece of clothing, the fancy material, while is still talking about the couple.”

“Alright,” Steve nodded and went to the couch. Instead of sitting on it, he settled himself on the ground, in between Bucky’s legs, one of his legs folded and the other resting on the floor. Steve pulled Bucky’s tie down, making the man bend forward and near him.

“Steve-” Bucky choked.

“Hmm, perfect!” David complimented, hiding his face behind the lenses again. Steve made a face to the camera.

“What are you doing?” Bucky asked.

“Pretending,” Steve replied without darting his eyes from the camera, “just like you asked.” He felt Bucky tensing up without the need to look at him.

It was Steve’s goal to puzzle Bucky, so when he didn’t answer, Steve smirked.

Steve stood from the floor and turned his back to the photographer, looking down at Bucky on the couch. Bucky’s eyes were glued to his movements. Steve quickly knelt on the furniture and straddled Bucky. He stared at Bucky intensely, and Bucky did it too, their eyes locked. It was like two wild animals waiting for permission to get closer.

“Pull off my coat,” Steve commanded low. Bucky led his hands to Steve’s coat and stripped it by the middle of Steve’s arms. Their eyes locked again.

“Yes, guys, yes, this is amazing…” David continued the praises, too far away for Steve to hear or care. All Steve could listen to was the sound of his hammering heart and Bucky’s breath on his skin.

As soon as Steve was out of his coat, his hands cupped Bucky’s face and he pressed his lips against Bucky’s. His conscious mind was far away from his body, he just wanted Bucky. Steve covered Bucky’s mouth with his own, breathing in his scent for a brief second. With their skin so close together and the contact so real, everything he was missing right there. He didn’t know how much he was starving for Bucky until he tasted those lips again. He felt stupid for trying to get away from Bucky, as if he could get away from _this_ , all the reasons were suddenly gone. He sucked on the man’s lips quickly, Bucky’s taste poisoning him and clouding his senses like it always did.

Steve let go of Bucky, the reality of the situation getting to him as if he was waking from a very deep sleep.

“Guys, this was wonderful!” David cheered. “This passion, this intimacy, all reflected in a picture! This one is going on the cover! It was such a pleasure to work with you guys!”

Steve couldn’t care less what the photographer was saying.  Bucky’s eyes were tracing Steve’s frame like a piece of meat. Steve bit his wet lip, fighting to hide a smile. He wanted to drive Bucky mad, and it was working.

With that, Steve concluded all those fake-kisses were tasting too real to be healthy.

 

OUT: _The outerwear brand New York Fog revealed its ad campaign,_ _featuring Steve Rogers and his boyfriend James Barnes._

 

David Jones posted a new photo 10 minutes ago

35,679 likes

@DavidJones: AFIRE LOVE! Steve Rogers and James Barnes are elegant and passionate in my new shoot in the upcoming ad for NY Fog! Discover the entire shoot in my website, out soon! #SteveRogers #JamesBarnes #NewYorkFog #OutSoon

 

 **Saturday, October 24** ** th ** **, 2015**

 

“I’VE FOUND IT!”

Steve and Peggy were startled by Angie’s scream the moment she walked in the living room. She jumped on the couch between the two of them with a screenplay on hands.

“I’ve found the perfect script for you, Steve!” she announced.

“Ok, place it on the pile of possible choices,” Steve replied, getting his attention back to the script he was reading.

“No, no, Steve!” Angie slapped his arm. “Listen to me!”

“Ouch! What?”

“It’s _perfect_ for you. It’s the one, I swear.” Angie waved the wad of paper in front of his eyes.

He sighed and put his script down. “Ok, so, what is it about?”

“It’s called ‘Canvas’. It’s about an artist dealing with sexuality and life choices, and is so sensitive and simple, but at the same time, intricate… I highlighted one of my favorite parts: ‘you are artwork and I could admire you forever’. He says that to a guy.” Angie looked at Steve, waiting for any reaction. “So?”

“So…?” Steve frowned. “Wait, is the main character gay?”

“Yes. And he _paints._ Mostly people. Steve, you have to do this! After all, you have artistic skills, you draw bodies so good. You can use your art in the filming, I bet the director is gonna love it.”

“I dunno.” Steve shrugged. “I haven’t been drawing many bodies lately. Something has been giving me artists’ block.”

Peggy cleared her throat. “By something you mean James?”

“No.” Steve rolled his eyes, faking sarcasm.

“Ok, let’s establish something here: your fake-sarcasm doesn’t work with us,” Peggy pointed out. “Besides, Angie follows him on Instagram.”

“What?” Steve snapped.

“Yeah,” Angie added, “he posts pictures of your late drawings. Dude, you’re obsessed with his body.”

“What? _What_?? Fuck _._ ” Steve felt his skin burning with blush as he realized he has been drawing Bucky, but until then he was pretty sure of throwing all of that in the garbage. “How did he get that?”

“I guess you’re just not good at hiding your shit,” Peggy shrugged. “And by shit, I mean your drawings and your feelings.”

Steve called Fury to set up a meeting. He stayed at Peggy’s and Angie’s apartment until they kicked him out. Steve stopped to get a take-out before driving home; the sky was pouring and the rain quickly got Steve’s outfit soaking wet.

The apartment was all dark, except for the kitchen, so he crossed the living room with large steps and decided to shower before eating his dinner.

Steve wasn’t trying to avoid Bucky anymore. Of course, he wasn’t being filled with happiness with the other man’s presence, but he also wasn’t being filled with anger, either. Since the photoshoot, they were living in some kind of undiscovered territory.

He stepped into the shower, leaving his wet clothes on the floor.

Steve knew the kiss meant something. He felt that. People can’t fake gazes. _Not with that kind of intensity,_ he reassured himself as he remembered every moment of that kiss with eyes closed and water running down his body. Nor the tenderness the gesture carried within it. They were needed, and Steve needed Bucky more than just fake-touches. He needed Bucky when no one was looking. But he couldn’t read Bucky’s feelings, and then again, it could have been only desire.

That uncertainty left Steve remembering Bucky’s kisses and touches on a regular basis, even though it felt wrong to do.

Before Steve realized, he was already hard as a rock.

_Steve, you need a real fucking boyfriend._

When he was done, Steve wrapped the towel around his waist and went downstairs with his wet clothes on one hand. He entered the living room, heading directly to the laundry.

“Hey,” Bucky’s voice reverberated through the room from the nearby kitchen, with a note of tenderness. “I made- _oh_.” He stepped in the hallway so suddenly that Steve almost collided. Bucky’s eyes went wide as he took a good look on Steve’s barely-naked figure. “You’re wet.”

Bucky was wearing his cooking apron and his hair was tied back messily. There were a few stains of sauce on his cheek and he seemed to be completely unaware of it. _Damn Barnes._ Steve wanted to push him against a wall and lick his face right there, mouth down on his absurdly sharp jaw and his warm neck, but that would be utterly inappropriate and illogical. Instead, Steve wiped a thumb on the sauce and then took his finger right to his mouth, wrapping his lips around it. He looked straight into Bucky’s eyes while doing a sucking movement that hollowed out his cheeks and producing a filthy, obscene wet sound. Steve took his finger out of his mouth. “You’re spicy.”

Bucky looked stunned, completely frozen on his spot. “Nice observation.”

Steve headed to the laundry room, switching the lights on and throwing his clothes in the washing machine. From the corner of his eye, Steve noticed Bucky following him into the small room. He settled himself on top of the dryer right next to the washer.

“By the way, I’m going to Germany in November,” Bucky announced. Steve turned to him, arched eyebrows.

“Hm, what for?”

“Final shoots of Winter Soldier.” He shrugged.

“When are you coming back?” Steve made a step closer to Bucky, shortening the already small space that separated them.

“Sometime around Christmas.”

Steve took another step. “Are you coming home for Christmas?” He cleared his throat. “I mean, if you intend to spend Christmas here.”

“I don’t know,” Bucky answered, biting his lower lip slowly. There was no remaining space between them. Steve was so close he could feel Bucky’s hot breath on his face. He put his hands besides Bucky’s upper thighs, crawling his fingers slowly behind Bucky. “And, hm, Stark... he sent us an invitation for...” Bucky also cleared his throat, eyes following Steve’s fingers’ movements.

_C’mon, Bucky. Show something. Anything._

“For?” Steve encouraged Bucky to go on in a smooth voice, clearly aware of the results that his actions were having on Bucky’s train of thought. Bucky lifted his eyes to meet Steve’s. They were so fucking close it would take an inch to their lips to meet. Steve knew it, Bucky knew it. Steve faintly nodded his head, just to watch Bucky slowly nod back, as if he was following the trace of Steve’s mouth. “For what?”

Bucky’s eyes never left Steve’s mouth, as if he was measuring the space between them. “For his Halloween party. He said it was a big deal and he wouldn’t take no for an answer,” Bucky concluded. His gaze finally met Steve’s, and it almost burned holes in Steve with its intensity. “Why are you doing this?” Bucky asked, his voice barely louder than a whisper.

“Doing what?” Steve’s hands finally reached the washing powder. He stepped back quickly, leaving Bucky with a puzzled expression on his place. “He throws this party every year, it’s gonna be great.” Steve turned and filled the machine with the powder as if nothing had happened. Even if he was not looking at Bucky now, Steve was well aware of how much his skin was burning with the blush.

After a couple of seconds of silence, Bucky broke it by saying, “Also, I made us dinner.”

Steve looked to his side without moving out of his spot, giving Bucky a small smile on the corner of his lips while answering, “Hm, no, thanks. I already have a take-out.”

Bucky’s brittle laugh filled the small laundry room before he added, “You’re so fucking confusing.”

“Look who’s talking.” Steve rolled his eyes, closing the washing machine door with a loud bang before leaving the room.

 

GLAM: _Royal Navy Officer Steve Rogers arrives at Stark’s Halloween_ _Ball with a Pirate James Barnes!_

 

**Saturday, October 31st, 2015**

 

“Fuck, that’s hot!” Steve panted as he breathed heavily through his open mouth. He ran his fingers through the cooler to grab the first bottle of water he could find.

They were at Stark’s Halloween Ball, a memorable event that always gathered together a huge amount of celebrities. People dressed in the naughtiest costumes to the scariest and most elaborated outfits.

The thing is, Steve was way too hungry to pay attention at the food table’s little notes indicating what each item was before shoving the first thing he could see right into his mouth. He ended up grabbing a really spicy tortilla with Mexican skulls as decorations. He should’ve known better.

“Yeah, I know, that’s my costume. Hot pirate at your service, sir,” Bucky teased. He was dressed as a pirate, wearing a long black coat, black pants and boots, a white shirt with the upper ties unlaced, showing a bit of his torso, and a belt with a realistic sword and guns. His long hair was tied back, matching the outfit, and he was really, really gorgeous in that costume.

Steve almost wasn’t able to keep his cool when he saw Bucky ready, mostly because he himself was dressed as a Royal Navy Officer with a blue-royal coat decorated with golden buttons, white pants and shoes. That was Natasha’s idea. Natasha herself was dressed as the Queen of Hearts.

“Here, drink this.” Bucky held Steve a glass with a transparent liquid on it.

Steve thought it was water, so he threw all the content into his mouth, immediately regretting it, because it was alcohol. “What the fuck, this is vodka!”

“It helps with spicy food, you’ll see.”

Steve cleaned his mouth with the back of his sleeve. “By the way, you’re fully clothed. A hot pirate would dress in much less than that.”

“I don’t need to wear less to be a hot pirate, _sir_.”

Steve held his breath and closed his eyes. Bucky was pushing all of his buttons. “Could you stop?” Steve asked. Bucky chuckled in reply.

“I’ll stop if you dance with me,” Bucky said.

Steve turned his head to Bucky, making sure he was not hallucinating, but Bucky’s face was dead serious. “No.”

He couldn’t.

Steve couldn’t allow himself that simple act of dancing, because sticking around with Bucky and doing nothing was getting harder and harder. He wasn’t even trying to pretend anymore and that kind of thing was a doorway to showing how interested he was in Bucky.

“C’mon, you can’t go to all the parties during this contract without dancing with me for real.” Bucky arched his eyebrows and crossed his arms. He looked so sexy.

“I danced with you at the cruise,” Steve pointed out.

“That wasn’t dancing. Now, will you or not?”

Steve rolled his eyes, looking away. His eyes stopped at a green spot he recognized as Clint dressed as Robin Hood, drinking beer and talking to some people. “You can dance with Clint. He’s right there.”

Bucky snorted sarcastically. “Why can’t I dance with you, jackass? We just go there and dance a few songs, like friends!”

_Exactly because of that._

“Hello, gentlemen,” Peggy greeted, approaching quickly with Angie. Peggy was super-hot, dressed as a female Greek gladiator, matching with Angie, who was wearing a Greek Goddess costume. “I see you two are matching very nicely.”

“I might turn straight for these women,” Bucky replied, greeting them back.

“I absolutely love your sexy pirate costume,” Angie commented, arching one eyebrow, which made Bucky turn to Steve with an I-told-you-so expression.

“Thank you, my goddess.” He kissed her hand in return. “I was just trying to convince this punk here to dance with me.” Bucky rolled his eyes, nodding towards Steve’s direction.

“Oh, I can’t believe after all these months together you haven’t gotten the hang of pushing Stevie’s buttons,” Peggy said, setting her hands on her waist with fake disappointment.

“You need a lil’ encouragement? Last time was very effective.” Angie winked at Bucky.

“You’re gonna need me to drink more than that,” Steve said, sarcastically.

“Alright, you mood killer. I’m gonna go grab a drink,” Bucky announced, turning on his heels and leaving towards the bar’s direction.

“Don’t go getting all wasted!” Steve warned.

“Well, then stop me.” Bucky looked over his shoulder with a wild expression, biting his bottom lip quickly before disappearing among the crowd.

Steve and the women moved to a nearby couch with less lighting.

“I think that was a challenge,” Angie teased, one eyebrow arched. She was sitting on Peggy’s lap with one arm around Peggy’s shoulder.

“Steve, stop playing hard to get,” Peggy added. “It’s getting old-fashioned even for you.”

“I’m not playing hard and that wasn’t a challenge.” Steve shrugged. “It’s just Bucky being Bucky.”

“You know you deserve all the misery you’re in, right?” Peggy rolled her eyes and tapped Angie on her leg and they both stood up. “I’m gonna dance with my partner. Don’t come complaining when Bucky goes dancing with somebody else.”

They left Steve alone on the small couch with the drinks he had grabbed from a passing waiter. He didn’t mind being all by himself. The problem was that not having people around to distract him, left Steve with plenty of time to think. And thinking always led to Bucky and his mixed messages. Wonderful.

From the corner of his eye, Steve noticed someone getting closer right before the spot on the sofa beside him was suddenly occupied.

“Why is it that a captain is all alone without his crew tonight?” A smooth voice with a hard accent found its way to Steve’s ear. When Steve turned his head, he realized the man was sitting closer that he would’ve expected due to the loud music.

The man was fit and covered in a tight leather black suit. His gloves had claws, there was a set of large fangs around his collarbone, and he was wearing a mask with tiny feline ears.

“I’m really trying to think of an appropriate answer, but I can’t remember anything involving black cats,” Steve chuckled.

“Give me some credit, I am a black panther.” The man removed the mask. His skin was black, he had dark brown eyes, and a thick beard. He was fucking gorgeous. “By the way, my name is T’Challa. You?”

“Steve,” he replied with a light smile.

“It is nice to meet you, Captain Steve.” T’Challa gave a flirtatious smile. “Would you like to grab a drink?”

_Oh, shit._

“I really would, but I have to check on my boyfriend.” Steve made an apologizing smile back. Steve’s eyes darted from T’Challa to the dance floor, noticing Bucky coming to their direction. His eyes were dark as Steve had never seen before. “Oh, there he is.”

“I see…”  T’Challa looked at Bucky for a moment. “It is too bad that a fine man like you is already taken. Now if you excuse me, I will find some company for myself.”

Bucky arrived a couple of seconds after T’Challa left. Steve was about to get up when Bucky stopped him with a tight grip on his shoulder, shoving Steve back on the couch almost aggressively. Bucky straddled him in one single motion, as if the movement was the most common thing in the world for them. He set his drink on the arm of the couch and positioned himself even further up Steve’s lap.

Before Steve had the chance to unfreeze, Bucky went down with that pretty little sinful mouth straight to Steve’s ear. “This place is full of photographers, you really gonna replace me with that puss in boots?”

Steve’s mouth went dry, unable to reply. Bucky sitting on his lap, so _close_ to his crotch, and lips brushing ever so lightly against the sensitive skin of his ear.

It was fucking torture.

“Don’t I deserve an answer?” Bucky grasped on Steve’s waist, slowing feeling him up through his costume. He lifted his hips, which focused Steve’s attention on the sudden lack of contact. Bucky rocked his hips from side to side with the rhythm of the music, slowly getting back into Steve’s lap and grinding on Steve’s crotch. Bucky trapped Steve’s earlobe between his teeth. “Has the cat got your tongue?” he murmured.

Steve was breathless and he couldn’t bring himself to form coherent sentences. That was exactly what he was trying to avoid, an embarrassing moment when he found himself in the palm of Bucky’s hand.

Bucky ran his nose over the upper part of Steve’s neck. “That’s what I thought,” he muttered more to himself than anything.

He made a movement like he was going to get out of Steve’s lap, and Steve had a sudden realization. _Oh, fuck._ He was fully aroused. Steve led his hands to Bucky’s waist and pushed him back down. Bucky’s ass ended up landing right on top of Steve’s groin and Steve pinned him in place. Bucky rolled his eyes into the back of his head out of pleasure.

 _Sweet Jesus_ , Steve thought, realizing he might not be able to resist much longer, _he really has to stop teasing me like this._

“Then why are you replacing me with that Robin Hood over there?” Steve whispered close to Bucky’s ear, nodding slightly to the dance floor’s direction where he has last seen Clint.

“I’m not,” Bucky breathed the words so quietly Steve almost didn’t hear it through the loud music playing.

Steve moved his teeth to Bucky’s ear, nibbling his earlobe. At this point, his senses were all drunk in Bucky’s essence. Bucky made a little muffled sound of pleasure before slightly moving his ass in a single circle against Steve’s lap, which caused Steve’s dick to twitch inside his pants.

The movement didn’t pass unnoticed by Bucky, who innocently rested his head against Steve’s left shoulder, eyes closed. “Please, dance with me. You’re supposed to be mine.”

Steve choked on his words. He knew Bucky clearly was talking about the contract. They were supposed to act like boyfriends. And yet Steve wished there was no _supposed to_ in that sentence.

“I’m yours,” he murmured, regretting the admission as soon as it left his mouth. Steve closed his eyes, wishing he could bury himself in a big, deep hole and never come back.

 _Next step,_ thought Steve, _pretending to be drunk and not remembering anything._

 

**Friday, November 6** ** th ** **, 2015**

 

Bucky would leave to Germany the following day.

Bucky and Clint had gone out again that day. Steve did not know where they’d gone this time, but the way things were going, he would keep not knowing.

He tried not to let things get weird between them after the “I’m yours” incident. He really tried. Bucky seemed to make an effort himself, considering how they both decided to ignore the subject like it never happened. Steve ended up dancing with Bucky after all, and he would never admit how much he actually enjoyed it. He had faked a hangover the next morning, so he would have an excuse to not remember all the shit he had said.

Once things settled down to the way they used to be, Steve went back to his trying-to-sleep-and-failing routine, which consisted of rolling around the bed until he passed out from exhaustion at some point and woke up in the next day feeling like a truck ran over him.

At some point in that night, Steve heard muffled sounds around the apartment. The click of the front door being opened and locked again. Two voices chuckling and speaking too quietly to be understood. A single “shhh,” followed by soft giggles. The sound of boots climbing the stairs and another click of a door, but this time much closer to Steve’s ears’ reach. It came from the room in front of his own, Bucky’s room.

The realization came right after that.

That Bucky and Clint were going to Bucky’s bedroom. Of course. Steve was so dumb for not realizing that before. Bucky had told Clint about the contract.

 _Shit_. The contract. It meant Clint knew about them and…

Actually, Steve couldn’t care less about the contract. He was just trying to fill his head with excuses so he could run away from the real issue. That he was jealous, that he wanted Bucky to himself. He would do anything to hold Bucky with his hands, to cup his face and kiss him, draw him with less and less pieces of clothing. He wanted Bucky on top of his lap every day just like they did on Halloween night.

But. He wouldn’t. Because this was just an agreement and Steve couldn’t afford to believe that maybe, just maybe, it was not acting for Bucky, too.

It was two in the morning. Bucky would leave for a month the following day and all Steve could think about was the fact that Bucky was in the other room with Clint.

He missed cooking with Bucky. He missed drawing Bucky. God, he missed sleeping with Bucky.

Steve felt the minutes passing by, and as much as he tried, his mind seemed to think the middle of the night was a perfect time to wander around the deepest parts of his secret thoughts and angsts. _Great,_ Steve sighed, tossing around and finally settling with his back to the bed and his gaze fixed on the dark ceiling. _Just. Great._

In the next morning, Steve heard laughter and objects being handed around as he woke. He snapped his eyes open when the memories of the previous night’s events threatened to take over his mind like a tornado.

He put sweatpants on before heading towards the sounds’ source: their kitchen. As soon as Steve arrived — shirtless and barefoot — he took in the scene of an all smiley Bucky in front of the stove, making pancakes for breakfast and laughing at something Clint had said, who was sitting at one of the bar stools, with a cup of coffee between his hands.

“Hello, sunshine!” Clint exclaimed as soon as he noticed Steve’s presence in the room. “Look at this, Buchanan, you’re one hell of a lucky bastard to be able to wake up to this view every day.”

Steve rolled his eyes. _Too early to deal with Barton’s bullshit._

Bucky stifled a laugh in answer. “Asshole,” he said.

Steve’s neck and shoulders tensed up. He didn’t know how to move or what to say. He went to the fridge, in an attempt to buy himself some time. Steve grabbed the first thing in rach, a gallon of milk, and closed the fridge before heading mechanically to the farthest side of the raised bar. He rested the whole weight of his body in one seat and the gallon on the counter in front of him.

“You okay, buddy?” Clint asked, raising a brow at Steve. “You look like total shit,” he commented absently, taking a peaceful sip of his coffee.

“Hmm, yeah. All good.”

“Alright, Rogers.” Clint put his cup down. “I can feel from here the little war happening inside your head.”

“Clint,” Bucky said, warningly, narrowing his eyes. “It’s too early for that.”

Barton rolled his eyes and continued. “I know about your agreement, and it’s fine, really.” He shrugged. “Your secret’s safe with me,” he said, getting up from his own seat to pad his friend’s back.

 _Ok_ , thought Steve. _They’re fucking. For real._

Steve looked at Bucky in hope of an enlightening statement that never came. Bucky turned his back to the stove, carrying a pan full of pancakes and put some on Steve’s plate. He didn’t look at Steve for a second, which left Steve feeling empty.

“Anyway,” Clint continued, probably ignoring the heavy air hovering among them, “yesterday was a freaking mess, man. I lost my keys again, for a change.”

“After losing your dignity, you mean?” Bucky replied.

“Yeah, you’re not far behind,” Clint teased back. Steve stayed still, silently. He was focused on the dynamic between the two men in front of him. “I was so wasted and it was too late to call a locksmith, that’s why I had to crash on your place.” He ate a strawberry, turning to Steve. “Thanks for that, by the way.”

“It’s okay,” Steve forced the words out of his mouth, not daring to look over his pancake plate. “I don’t mind that... this.”

Steve dared to look up, catching Bucky’s stare, or the other way around, considering Bucky was frowning at him and didn’t look away — unlike Steve did.

“You know how Clint gets when he’s drunk,” Bucky explained, a bit of concern in his tone. “He could barely walk, I had to climb the stairs with him, take him to my bed and-”

“It’s fine, Barnes. You don’t owe me an explanation.” As soon as the words came out of his mouth, he realized it was the wrong thing to call Bucky. Steve closed his eyes, wishing the floor would swallow him up and make him disappear. _Shitshitshit._

Bucky looked at Steve, locking his jaw and narrowing his eyes. “Steve,” he said. “Clint and I are not fucking.”

Clint, who had just brought the cup of coffee to his mouth, spat out the content, chuckling.

Steve and Bucky looked at each other for a moment. Steve didn’t know what to say, and Bucky just seemed to be teasing him with his grey eyes, dangerous and provocative, waiting for Steve to say something.

“Okay,” Steve murmured, looking down at his plate again. “So, you two are not together. That doesn’t change the fact that you’re still in some kind of relationship with someone.”

Bucky’s glare never left Steve. “What are you talking about?”

“I don’t know!” Steve dropped the fork and lifted his eyes at Bucky. “Some woman, I don’t know!”

Bucky dropped his own fork. “Stop with that!”

“Stop with what?” Steve asked, puzzled.

“Stop trying to throw women at me!” Bucky lowered his brows and let out an exasperated sigh.

“Why?”

“I’m _not_ attracted to women!” Bucky shouted.

Steve tilted his head in confusion. “What do you mean you’re not attracted to women? I thought...”

“Well, that’s kinda part of the whole ‘being gay’ deal.” Bucky rolled his eyes, his tone dripping sarcasm.

“But you’re with someone,” Steve pointed out.

“I’m not?” It was Bucky’s turn to be confused. And frustrated. As if Steve’s accusation was some sort of offense.

“I saw a lingerie on our laundry machine and that’s fine, really, just stop pretending-” Steve sentence was interrupted by Bucky.

“I am not pretending, Steve. I’m not. Wait. You saw _what_?”

Steve turned his gaze away and sighed. “It was pink and very cute. She has a good taste.”

“Oh my God. Shut. Up. Right now.” Bucky raised his hands and covered his ears with them, turning his head left and right frenetically. “I’m not listening to this.” Bucky stood up from the counter and left the kitchen.

“What?” Steve asked confusedly. “Where are you going?”

“You need to meet someone,” Bucky replied, getting his car keys in large steps. The front door was soon closed with a loud thud, leaving Steve and Clint looking at each other in confusion.

Steve’s stared in the direction of Bucky’s departure, not really focusing on anything specific. He was so lost inside his own head that he was startled by sound of Clint clearing his throat, still sitting peacefully at the counter.

“You’re falling,” Clint stated, his face dead serious, but still not looking at Steve’s direction.

He didn’t have to explain. Steve knew exactly what he meant.


	9. TAKE NINE

**Friday, November 6** ** th ** **, 2015**

 

The front door being opened caught Steve’s attention. Clint had already gone, and Bucky had left without further explanation of where he was going or when he would come back.

Bucky entered the living room, going straight to Steve, who was sitting at the couch pretending to watch the TV, and placed a soft but tender kiss on his cheek. Steve was stunned. One minute he was left alone confused by the whole situation and the next one there was Bucky, acting all lovey-dovey toward Steve.

“I told you I had someone I wanted you to meet. Steve, this is Rebecca,” he announced, bringing Steve’s attention to their surroundings for the first time.

There was a young pale girl standing a couple of feet away from Bucky. She had a round baby face and big eyes colored with a shade of grey as beautiful as Bucky’s. Her long, straight, brown hair fell around her shoulders to her thin waist. She was definitely not older than fifteen, wearing a baby-blue dress and holding a small suitcase in her hands. Steve turned his gaze back to Bucky without saying a word, a brow arched questionably.

Due to Steve’s lack of answer, Bucky added, “She’s my younger sister, Steve. She stayed here during your promo trip and Becca over there has a real bad habit of forgetting her things, so that pretty much explains the whole incident.”

Steve faced the girl once more, who, although she had very sweet features, looked at him dead-serious right in the eye before saying, “I heard you’ve been messing with my panties. Pervert.”

Bucky, still with his back to Rebecca and facing Steve, leaned closer to the Steve and whispered in his ear, “I told you I wasn’t seeing anybody.” He quickly stood back and gave Steve the most innocent smile Steve ever saw. He looked almost _proud_.

That man was _so_ fucking confusing.

“So, you’re the infamous boyfriend I’ve never got to meet. You look better than I was expecting, really. Bucky did good,” Rebecca offered as a conversation starter, since Steve wasn’t really reacting to the whole situation.

“Becca. Behave,” Bucky warned, but his lips were curved in a smile.

_Boyfriend? Didn’t he tell her?_

“And I’m assuming you’re the infamous sister I’ve never heard of,” Steve retorted, reaching out one hand to greet Rebecca. The girl and Steve exchanged meaningful gazes.

“Bucky has this weird habit of hiding me from the world.” She rolled her eyes. “Do I know you? You seem kinda familiar. Are you from my brother’s business line as well?”

“I am, actually,” Steve replied. _Inside what cave has this girl been living?_ “You probably saw me in one of the latest superhero movies. You know, Captain America and stuff?”

“I’m not really into the whole heroes’ thing.” Rebecca shrugged.

“My greatest disappointment,” Bucky sighed.

“Well, I guess we gotta do something about it,” Steve pointed out, confidently.

“Good luck with that, pal,” Becca challenged, rolling her eyes in response.

Bucky chuckled. “I see you guys are already getting along. But anyway, my flight leaves in two hours and I have to leave Becca at Mrs. Germanova’s house before that.”

“Who’s that?” Steve asked.

“An angry Russian old lady Bucky hires to take care of me as if I was incapable of making my own food,” Becca explained with a certain bitterness in her tone of voice that made Steve laugh.

“Ok, little girl, how could you even know how to cook if I always cooked for you?” Bucky crossed his arms.

“Uh, the internet? You dumbass.” Rebecca rolled her eyes once again. “Let’s go already.”

“You can leave her here,” Steve suggested. Bucky and Rebecca looked at him instantly. “I mean, I’m no Russian lady, but I can sure as hell be grumpy _and_ cook a mean lasagna.”

Bucky snorted with sarcasm. “You don’t know how to take care of a kid.”

“She’s what, fifteen? I don’t need to take care of her.” Steve shrugged.

“I like him,” Rebecca pointed out.

“Besides, we have wi-fi and oxygen, what else do teenagers need?”

“That’s it, I’m staying.” Rebecca dropped her luggage on the closest couch.

Bucky gave up after a few minutes of arguments with his little sister, realizing he wouldn’t be able to talk her out of staying with Steve, since she already liked him and had decided to stay.

When he finished saying goodbye to Rebecca, Bucky stood for a few seconds at the entrance door. Steve slowly approached with hands in his pockets. He didn’t know what to say. Were things okay between them? Was Steve being paranoid again?

Right, he wasn’t going out with anyone, but that didn’t mean... It didn’t mean anything.

“So...” Bucky started, shifting from one foot to the other, “I think I should get going.”

“I guess so,” Steve nodded. “See you...”

“Yeah.”

Bucky was about to turn and leave when Steve stopped his action. “Wait.” Steve held Bucky’s arm quickly and shortened the space between them, tucking Bucky in the middle of his arms tightly and embracing Bucky. “Have a safe flight.”

It took Bucky a couple of seconds to respond to the touch, as if he wasn’t used to this kind of display of affection. But when he did respond, Bucky hugged Steve even tighter.

“Thanks,” Bucky murmured against Steve’s chest. “See you next month, Steve.”

“See ya, Buck.” He waited for Bucky to get to the elevator before closing the door. When Steve turned, Rebecca was at the end of the hallway, staring straight at him with one arched brow. “I guess it’s time for you to see your new room.”

“Yeah, whatever. You guys are weird.”

Steve realized that, from the point of view of a fifteen-year-old girl, not kissing his boyfriend when saying goodbye could in fact be weird. But Steve was still not sure  why Bucky was lying to his sister. Steve wasn’t even capable of hiding the truth from his closest friends, let alone his own sibling. That was something he meant to ask Bucky later.

They went upstairs with her luggage, and for a couple of seconds Steve froze on the top of the stairs. Their supposed ‘‘guest room’’ was actually _Bucky’s_ room. Filled with all of Bucky’s things and evidence that he had been sleeping there.

Steve opened the door.

“You can sleep here,” _in this empty guest room with messed up blankets and the smell of your brother in everything you can reach_ , he added mentally. “It’s packed with a couple of our things, but we can rearrange that.”

 

SUPREME NEWS!: _James Barnes is seen boarding in JFK to final shoots abroad of upcoming movie! Is Steve Rogers missing his bae already?_

 

**November, 2015**

 

First week in and Steve and Rebecca were already doing pretty good. They had settled a routine of having dinner together after her classes during the week, and Steve discreetly played some of his movies on the television while she was distracted on the couch, ending up attracting her attention every now and then to a few scenes. He internally cheered to the fact that she commented during the length of a whole dinner about one of his romance movies.

“So, I’m guessing you’re not living with your parents because you’re an independent girl.” Steve initiated a conversation one night.

“Didn’t Bucky tell you? We’re kinda orphans.” Becca lifted her graze from her spaghetti plate to look at Steve while saying it as if she was stating something as simple and obvious as _the sky is blue_.

“... He didn’t,” Steve replied, not being able to hide the truth.

“Dude, you really have to improve this relationship you have with my brother,” Becca said, shaking her head slightly in disbelief. “Anyway, our mother died when I was a baby. I didn’t really know her, but Bucky did. When I was six, dad left us. Bucky told me it was because he was a very busy man and needed to work, but I’m not that stupid. I know he just left because he didn’t want to take care of us. It doesn’t matter now, Bucky has been taking care of me since then.” Rebecca smiled at him. “This sauce is really good. I mean, _too_ good. You couldn’t possibly have made it yourself.” She laughed to herself, taking another bite of the food.

There she was, a carefree fifteen-year-old kid talking lightly about a tragic childhood without a mother figure and with a jackass of a father. But with a wonderful brother. A strong young man who had to raise his baby sister all by himself.

And Steve had no idea. He knew Bucky was a good man, but he didn’t know half of the marvelous things Bucky had done in his life. How selfless he must have been to give up his own youth to take care of Rebecca.

Steve didn’t think it could be possible to like Bucky more than he already did. Until now.

“He did a pretty good job.” Steve smiled weakly to her. His gaze was soft.

“He wasn’t very present, because of the job and stuff, and sometimes he came home really tired... but he was always very affectionate,” Rebecca continued, admiration for her brother clear in her features.

“What job?” Steve couldn’t help it, at this point, to not ask Becca to keep going when he was obtaining more information from her about Bucky than he did living with him for months.

“I don’t know, I guess he had always been an actor, but he never showed me his movies until recently,” she concluded, shrugging. Then, something seemed to pass through her mind that made Becca widened her grey eyes for a second. “Don’t you dare tell him I said that! I have a reputation to take care of.”

Steve chuckled at that, nodding before taking a bite of his own food.

On a Sunday, it was Rebecca’s idea to cook them lunch. Steve agreed to cut the vegetables and make the salad instead, always keeping an eye to make sure she wasn’t mistaking salt for sugar.

And, considering Steve’s _own_ cooking abilities, that said a lot about Becca’s.

“Oh my God, Becca, the beans are black!” Steve exclaimed, taking a look at one of the pans on the stove.

“What, aren’t they supposed to be that color?” Rebecca arched her brow, her eyes not leaving the raw chicken she was seasoning.

“They’re supposed to be dark, sure, but not bloody toasted like these! It’s burned.” Steve sighed, turning the flame off himself.

“Ok, boss,” Becca sarcastically replied, adding under her breath, “Jesus, gimme a break.”

“I heard that,” Steve pointed out, accusatory.

Rebecca didn’t answer him, moving along to the other pan where the gravy was being made. She murmured a soft “this is way too thick,” to nobody specifically, and from the corner of his eye, Steve noticed her take a transparent bottle on the counter and turn back to the pan.

Steve’s eyes went wide. “Wait, Becca, that’s not wat-”

The pan immediately caught on fire, its flames growing taller and taller on top of the stove into the ceiling’s direction.

“That’s not water!” Steve shouted, pulling the girl by her arm.

“Oh, shit!” she breathed out, stumbling on her own feet to get away from the hot spot.

“Language!” Steve turned his head, facing her.

“Your fucking house is fucking burning and you’re fucking worried with a few cuss words? Seriously?” Becca retorted. Steve pushed the button beside the fridge and water fell from the ceiling, quickly vanishing the small fire.

“You,” Steve pointed at Rebecca, his face dead-serious, “are the spitting image of your fucking brother. You both know how to piss off me just right.”

“Well,” Rebecca shrugged innocently, her clothes and hair damp from the firing alarm, “I guess it runs in the family.”

 

Thursday came, and with it, another Skype call from Bucky.

“Hello, pickle head, how’re things going across the pond?” Steve heard Becca saying cheerfully from her spot on the other couch of the living room, in front of where Steve was.

“Hi! It’s all good. I really miss you, kiddo,” Bucky’s voice reverberated through the smartphone in the girl’s hand.

“Oh, I don’t really miss you. Steve orders us pizza all the time, you know. I’ve been living the good life without your ‘eat a vegetable a day’ stupid rule.” She twisted her nose in fake disgust.

Steve got up from his spot and grabbed the small phone from her hands, facing the camera. “That’s not true! In my defense, I’d never be _that_ irresponsible and let your sister eat so many carbs,” he explained in a desperate tone of voice.

“Don’t be so lame, Rogers,” Rebecca said, rolling her eyes. Then grabbed the phone once again. “Yeah, he wouldn’t. He actually locks me at the laundry room and leaves me starving for hours. I considered eating washing powder once. H-e-l-p.”

“She’s lying!” Steve shouted. “She’s having fun, I promise. She even went out with her friends and I had to pick her up past midnight because she got lost and couldn’t find the way home.”

“ _What_?” Bucky blurted out.

“You know that doesn’t do any good for your reputation, right?” Rebecca replied with a serious tone of voice.

Steve stayed completely frozen for a few seconds. “Ok, but, the thing is-”

“Bucky, I’m fine,” Becca cut in, looking at the screen with sincerity. “I saw Peggy and Angie, and we went shopping last Saturday. They invited me to a girl’s night at their house, because I have enough big brothers, and we’re spending Thanksgiving together next week. Besides, Steve’s been good, he’s behaving, sleeping, and eating well. I’m taking care of him just like you asked.”

“Rebecca!” Bucky snapped.

“Wait,” Steve interrupted, confused. “Bucky asked you to take care of _me?”_

“Yeah,” Rebecca replied as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “He said sometimes you have trouble sleeping and if you looked like shit I should call him and-”

“No!” Bucky yelled from the smartphone, almost desperate.

“You know what? I’m not in the mood for this _lovey-dovey_ couple thing, so imma just go back to my room.” Rebecca made a face and handled Steve the phone. “Gimme back my phone when you’re done, Steve. Bye, Bucky Ducky!” She waved at the camera before turning and climbing the stairs.

Bucky had the reddest face Steve had ever seen.

“I can explain that,” he pointed out, laughing embarrassedly and scratching the back of his neck.

“Yeah, you better explain,” Steve demanded, staring hard at that fucking cute blushed face of Bucky and trying his best to remain serious. “She would call you and you would do what?”

Bucky raised his embarrassed face to the screen, realizing he had just been made fun of. He closed his eyes, a smile growing on his mouth and its failed attempt to contain it while trying to bite his own lip. Steve couldn’t believe how gorgeous Bucky could be.

“I’d call you and try to bore you to death with my talk, ok?” Bucky laughed softly. “I know, it’s ridiculous.”

“It worked the last time,” Steve shrugged and chuckled.

“Yeah, it did,” Bucky replied. “I bet the house is a fucking mess without me.”

“Oh, yeah, I miss your clean freak habits.”

Bucky nodded and rolled his eyes. “And I sure miss your burnt pancakes.”

“Don’t even get me started about burned things over here,” Steve pointed at the stairs. “Rebecca almost set fire to the apartment.”

 _“He’s exaggerating!”_ Steve heard the girl yelling from the second floor.

Bucky started laughing from the whole situation through the small screen, and for a moment Steve forgot anything else and just focused on the sweet sound of his laughter and the cute little wrinkles that formed around Bucky’s eyes because of the smiling movement. Steve didn’t even know he missed that until he saw them again.

“I told you she couldn’t cook. She’s the worst,” Bucky said, softly.

“She is amazing,” Steve stated with sincerity after a couple of seconds of distraction. He probably looked pretty weird staring motionless at Bucky. “She’s such a kind and smart girl. Whoever _raised_ her, did a good job.”

“Yeah…” Bucky smiled a bit, looking at some point above the screen.

“I guess you were never going to tell me you’re orphans, right?”

Bucky froze for a second and then closed his eyes. “Shit,” he murmured. “I… forgot to mention.”

“Because it really is a forgettable fact that she and you have been spending Christmas and Thanksgiving alone since she was six,” Steve replied with sarcasm. “You should’ve seen how happy she got when Angie said she would be spending it with us this time around.”

“I bet she did,” Bucky said, thoughtfully. “Are you spending Christmas with your family?”

“Considering my family consists of Peggy and Angie, yes. Yeah, I’m kinda an orphan too.”

“What? Why haven’t you told me?”

Steve rolled his eyes. “If you had told me about your family, I would’ve told about mine. I guess we’re even. I mean, I don’t have any hidden sibling around, though.”

“Alright, we’re even. You’re a punk, you know that?”

Steve chuckled, but he was cut by Rebecca. _“Are you lovebirds done? I need my cellphone back, for God’s sake.”_

 

GOSSIP WORLD: _Inside pics of James Barnes on set for his newest movie, Winter Soldier! Click here to check it out._

 

**Wednesday, December 23** ** rd ** **, 2015**

 

That night, Steve was having another one of his closest friends visit: his beloved insomnia. Ever since he got a month to digest and come to terms with the fact that he indeed had developed strong feelings towards Bucky, his mind has been restless. He was, for most of his sleep time, at that horrible state of mind where he was neither asleep nor fully awake.

And that fact explained why Steve’s attention was so easily caught by the slow turn of his doorknob.

A man’s figure emerged from the dark shadows, walking in confident steps towards Steve’s direction.

It looked like... Bucky?

Was Steve hallucinating? He must had been hallucinating. Bucky was supposed to be on the other side of the fucking ocean, after all.

Steve must be pretty bloody addicted to that fucker, if his brain was playing tricks on him that late night.

Steve felt like he was supposed to say something, to confirm that was really Bucky sneaking inside his room. But he couldn’t. He didn’t want to risk it not being real. It was too good to be true. Bucky’s figure crawled up the bed, all on fours, coming up on Steve’s direction with a blank face.

Steve felt like he was going to burst. He didn’t want to wake up now.

Bucky continued crawling up and ended up almost on top of Steve’s lap, putting his hands framing both sides of Steve’s body, slightly brushing Steve’s skin. And it was suddenly too real to be dreaming. Flesh and blood and touchable, Bucky’s scent, Bucky’s warmth. All too familiar to Steve.

It was like any word Steve could possibly think of wouldn’t be enough to communicate the feelings that passed through him.

Steve realized it was indeed reality, that Bucky was really in his bed, and not in freaking Germany where Steve thought he still was. And it was suddenly too much to handle.

Bucky was home.

Did he have so many nightmares over there that his first instinct when arriving home was to cuddle up to Steve, where he felt safe? Steve’s imagination was really getting out of hand. Bucky’s nightmares were the main reason why they started sleeping together in the first place. It didn’t necessarily mean that Bucky felt _safe_ in Steve’s arms, just that a body lying beside helped him sleep better.

Steve didn’t want to know the answer. He was losing his mind.

Bucky leaned in even closer, and in the precarious lighting of the room, Steve couldn’t take his eyes of that pretty little mouth of Bucky reaching Steve’s ear, before firmly saying, “Steve, where the fuck is my stuff?”

It was like Bucky poured cold water on top of him. Steve’s confused expression must have given him away, considering how Bucky added, sitting on his heels to give them some distance to look at each other, “My things, Steve. They’re not in my room anymore. In fact, Becca is. Where did you put them?”

 _Oh._ Steve didn’t have much space to tell Bucky about Becca occupying his room over Skype, and having to moving all of his stuff to Steve’s bedroom, with the girl being constantly around, and considering how he completely forgot to text Bucky about it, it was more than plausible Bucky’s confusion about the situation.

“Your things. Right.” Steve cleared his throat, trying to make the husky tone on his voice, resulted from his sleep, go away. “You know we only have two rooms so, naturally, I had to give yours to Becca. When did you arrive? Why haven’t you said anything?”

“Oh, I caught an early flight.” Bucky shrugged as if it was no big deal. “I didn’t wanna spend Christmas alone over there. Why did you offer her _my_ room?”

“Huh, it’s my house and _your_ sister. Duh?”

“Fair enough. So that means I’m stuck witcha?” Bucky’s gave him a big  smile. It looked _dirty_. Steve shivered.

“It seems like we don’t really have another option.” Steve pointed out. “You caused it by not telling your sister about the fakeness of our relationship.”

“Just admit it. You’d _love_ to sleep with me,” Bucky teased him, a grin on his face. He bounced on his spot and then quickly laid on the bed like it was his to be taken, settling himself comfortably over Steve’s blanket and resting his head on top of his crossed arms on the pillow.

“Whatever, Barnes. Go to sleep.” Steve rolled his eyes and turned his back to Bucky, facing the wall from his side of the bed.

“Imma take a shower first. Of course, if it’s not asking too much of you to lend me your bathroom,” Bucky chuckled, getting out of bed.

“Oh, shut up,” Steve grunted; his face was burning.

Bucky entered the bathroom and closed the door behind him, leaving Steve in the dark with arousal and confusion. _Sweet Jesus,_ Steve breathed out.

Steve realized that the initial physical attraction he felt for Bucky had grown uncontrollably to become something else. He couldn’t understand before why Bucky used to be like a magnet to him, who since the very beginning caught his eyes and he couldn’t shake it off. He should have realized before that this was the kind of attraction you can’t really get rid of. And he couldn’t choose, he couldn’t do anything but avoid. It just happened that, with Bucky right beside him, he simply couldn’t avoid it.

He tried to deny it, but Bucky kept him hanging on like the world kept the moon in the sky.

The sound of the shower stopped, and within a couple of minutes Bucky emerged from the bathroom wearing nothing but black shorts. He crawled back in the bed without a word, pushing part of the blanket over himself and rolled on his side, facing Steve, who was laying on his back with his gaze fixed on the white ceiling like it was the world’s greatest masterpiece.

Steve’s head was resting on top of his left arm, and once he felt the heat of the body next to him, so dangerously close, Steve shut his eyes, trying not to focus on it. He didn’t know exactly where they stood anymore in terms of closeness now that they were alone in the dark, considering they’ve spent more than a month sleeping apart. Steve wouldn’t admit it out loud, but he was scared that things between them might have changed in the meanwhile.

He desperately didn’t want it to.

And then all of his doubts were vanished by the feeling of Bucky shortening the distance between them. Steve’s eyes instantly opened, following Bucky’s hand movement as it moved under their shared blanket and felt Steve’s torso and naked skin under Bucky’s palm. Steve shivered with to the touch.

Steve retrieved the arm from behind his head, setting it beside him as an invitation for Bucky to keep going with whatever it was that he intended to. Bucky snuggled into Steve’s embrace, wrapping one arm around Steve’s body and settling his head into the crook of the blond man’s neck. Steve rested his own hands on Bucky’s back, lightly running his fingertips over the brunet’s spine.

His chest was filled with warmth. Bucky didn’t even hesitate to touch Steve like they used to. It seemed like he missed Steve’s touch as much as missed Bucky’s.

With Bucky’s hair brushing Steve’s face, breathing in his sweet scent, Steve didn’t remember much after that besides Bucky’s calm breathing rhythm, considering how deeply asleep he fell.

 

OK!: _James Barnes was spotted by paparazzi arriving back in JFK airport after shooting a section of Winter Soldier’s footage in Europe. Sources speculate the reason behind Barnes’ early arrival has everything to do with spending Christmas’ festivities with his Super-Star boyfriend, Steve Rogers._

 

**Thursday, December 24** ** th ** **, 2015**

 

Steve woke up early on Christmas’ Eve morning. He snuck out of the room, almost tip-toeing to make sure Bucky wouldn’t noticed his absence, and went downstairs to open the front door.

There they were, Angie and Peggy standing on his doorstep at the time planned, not earlier nor later than 7 a.m. They never even had to ring the doorbell.

Peggy was holding a medium square-shaped canvas in her hands, covered with a white cloth to make sure its content was properly hidden. Steve’s canvas. He motioned them to follow him silently, and Peggy entered the house passing by Steve while Angie made sure to close the door in the most careful way possible.

Once they entered the living room, Peggy asked in a whisper, “Where do you plan on hiding it?”

“Let’s put it in the laundry room,” Angie suggested and Peggy nodded, immediately taking her pace further the kitchen into the laundry room’s direction.

“No, guys, no!” Steve tried to catch their attention without raising his voice. “He’s probably going to take his clothes to wash as soon as he wakes up.” Steve pondered.

“Crap, okay,” Angie murmured, and Steve could almost see the gears working inside her head, trying to come up with a better option. “What about behind the fridge? He certainly won’t look there.”

“What are you guys doing?” Rebecca’s voice questioned loudly from behind them with a suspicious tone.

Steve almost jumped out of his skin from the unexpected interruption, “Shush, quiet! You’re going to end up waking Bucky!” he warned.

“ _Bucky?”_ Rebecca exhaled. _“_ Bucky’s _home_?” she almost screamed, turning back on her heels and running towards the stairs.

“Becca, wait!” Steve followed her and tried to get her attention, but it was too late. The girl was already climbing two steps at a time and in a matter of seconds Rebecca opened Steve’s room’s door in a loud thud.

Steve reached his doorstep in time to watch her jump in the bed and rest her full body weight on top of a sleepy Bucky, hugging him tightly.

Bucky immediately opened his eyes and, as soon as he made sure of his surroundings and what was wrapping around him in a rather suffocating way, he smiled tenderly and wrapped his own arms around his little sister. Becca buried her face in his chest.

Steve’s own chest was filled with warmth for that display of affection. He barely remembered what was like to miss someone, considering Peggy and Angie were his only family and they were always around. However, that blood bond Bucky and Becca shared, where you get to grow beside someone and know them better than yourself, it was something totally different. Steve didn’t realize he missed that until now.

He stood there for a couple of minutes, resting his weight against the doorframe with arms crossed, just watching. He couldn’t help but to admire that ‘sketch of a family’ in front of him. A guy that came out of his dreams tangled sleepily in Steve’s sheets, and a wonderful, sarcastic, yet lovely, teenager almost glued to her big brother.

“Hey there, kiddo. Missed you too, you know,” Bucky chuckled, messing Becca’s hair on the top of her head. “A freaking helluva lot.”

“Thank God you’re back, I think I couldn’t stand even more a day as Cinderella over here. My back’s killing me from all the floor scrubbing. It was torture, Bucky Ducky,” Becca pretended to whisper, glancing at Steve as to make her point. “What an evil man.”

“Oh, _now_ you’re whispering, little imp?” Steve snorted, unable to be mad at her joke.

“What do you mean?” Bucky laughed, direction his attention to Steve.

“Oh, I... just didn’t want anyone to wake you. You deserved, you know, some rest.” Steve scratched the back of his neck. He wasn’t necessarily _lying_ , but he also wouldn’t tell Bucky the entire truth.

“Thanks, baby.” Bucky gave Steve a breathtaking grin that he was certainly _not_ prepared to receive. Bucky looked like a vision in that mess of blankets with his bedhead and bleary morning smile. Steve wanted Bucky like that every day. _God,_ he missed him. “But don’t worry about that, I haven’t slept this good in days.”

“Ewww,” Rebecca got out of bed quickly. “I wonder why. Not even gonna comment on this messy room, you guys are disgusting.”

“Rebecca!” Bucky exclaimed, a dark shade of blush creeping its way to his cheeks. The same blush that was on Steve’s as well. Bucky lifted his torso, resting on his elbows.

“Bucky, please. Let’s stop pretending I’m still a clueless kid. You’re like three years late on this.” She waved her hand dismissively. “But hey, now that you’re home, does it mean I’ve got to leave?”

Bucky looked at Steve. “Ask him, it’s his apartment.”

“I thought it was _your_ apartment, too.” Rebecca arched her brows.

Suddenly, Bucky seemed to have talked himself into a corner. He stared at Steve in panic, which made Steve laugh. “I’d love for you to stay with us, Becca,” said Steve with a large grin.

“Yay! Thank you, Stevie!” Rebecca threw his arms around Steve and hugged him quickly and happily bounced out of the room.

Bucky dropped back to the bed. “Sorry about that, she’s impossible,” he murmured, hiding his face with a pillow.

“No, she’s not. She’s great and I mean it. Thank you for letting me take care of her.” Steve smiled for a moment. “By the way, you owe me some explanations.”

“About what?”

Steve crossed his arms. “About the fact that you’ve never told me about your sister.” Come to think of it, Steve didn’t know much about Bucky’s past, but considering the man’s silence, he wondered whether he was entitled to further explanations. They had no reason to be sharing intimate secrets, right? What were they if not bound by contract?

“It’s better for Rebecca to continue like this than to lose her privacy. You know more than anyone how hard it is to deal with the media, and I don’t want that for her. Besides, it’s too much stuff and it doesn’t matter now.” Bucky seated on bed, stretching his back and yawning once more. “So, what are the plans for Christmas?”

“The plans, gentlemen,” a voice coming from behind Steve said. He turned to face Peggy. “The plans are you two downstairs in ten minutes so we can start prepping our Christmas dinner. We have a lot of work to do.”

“Preparation? Why don’t you guys just buy it?” Bucky asked.

“Are you mad?” Peggy snapped. “This is family tradition. Get ready or get out.”

“But, I mean, it’s just so much easier to-” Bucky started to argue.

“Ten minutes!” Peggy shouted over her shoulder, already leaving the room and waving at Bucky dismissively.

“Geez, she’s tough.” Bucky grumbled.

“Yeah, tell me about it.” Steve rolled his eyes. He freaking _dated_ the woman, he knew she wasn’t going to let go of their traditions. It was actually one of the things Steve most loved about Peggy: she never backed down from her convictions. “So, you’re coming?”

“Actually, Becca and I are going to buy Christmas decorations.” Bucky looked up at Steve. He scratched the back of his head, apologetically. “We’re lacking a lot of stuff, man. Is it even Christmas without a tree?”

“In my defense, we’re not a traditional family.”

Bucky laughed. “Your untraditional family’s traditions are weird to me.”

“Don’t try to argue with Peggy’s logic,” Steve advised, “We don’t need a tree, but if you want one, buy it.”

“Where the hell do you put your presents?” Bucky crossed his arms.

 _Behind the fridge,_ Steve thought and chuckled softly. “Fine. Buy a tree. I’ll cover your shift. I mean, as long as you owe me not one but two favors, of course.” He grinned, playfully.

“What kind of favors?”

“We’ll see.” Steve shrugged.

“Whatever, I trust you.” Bucky got out of bed and started folding the blankets, setting the pillows right. He was only in his black boxers, so when he bowed down to straighten the sheets, Steve was able to see not only the flex of his fit belly but also his back muscles stretching just _so_ perfectly. “So, do we have a deal?” Bucky called out a couple of seconds later, and Steve realized he was yet to give him an answer.

“Yes. Deal.” Steve managed to blurt out, biting his lower lip. Bucky was a distraction.

Bucky laughed it off, and turned back to get himself dressed. Steve decided to go straight downstairs to help the ladies and, _hopefully_ , distract his mind with some easy cooking tasks and get it out of the fucking gutter.

Peggy and Angie were already chopping some of the vegetables and organizing a neat _mise en place_ system.

Steve was washing his hands in the sink when the front door’s thud made Angie arch her eyebrow. “Where the hell did your man go? We need skilled labor and, no offence to you, Rogers, but your vast experience as a chef isn’t exactly what we’re looking for here.”

“None taken. Anyway, Bucky and Becca went shopping for Christmas decorations. He was complaining about not having a tree to put the presents under.”

“Hmm, is this an excuse to buy a mistletoe?” Angie smirked, exchanging gazes with Peggy, who laughed in reply.

“Hah, it’s more likely to be an excuse to avoid talking.” As Steve moved to work on the apple pie, he couldn’t stop his mind from wandering to the fact that there was something odd about the way Bucky always found an excuse not to talk about the past. The avoidance of the subjects was making Steve feel weird, as if something was missing in the puzzle of Bucky’s life.

“What do you mean?” Peggy asked.

“I think Bucky is hiding something.” Steve frowned at the chopped apple pieces.

Steve helped Peggy throw the apple pieces in the pan with sugar and cinnamon. She looked back at him. “Do you think he’s acting strange?”

He stopped to think of that question. There were many things he let go about Bucky, like his nightmares, his youthful mistake tattoo, hiding his sister... that _past work_ with Clint. Steve didn’t know Bucky truly, even though Bucky had just said he trusted Steve.

“No. He’s always acted strange.”

Peggy didn’t ask further questions and Steve was left alone with his thoughts.

Later, Bucky and Becca arrived with a tree, ornaments, candy canes, and kits to create and decorate a very large gingerbread house, aside from tons of champagne and apple cider. They were also dressed in two super cheesy christmas sweaters. -- Bucky’s was red and filled with reindeer, while Becca’s was green with stars all over it. They decorated the house with Christmas lights, garlands, and stockings hanging on shelves, a wreath on the front door and red candles on the dinner table.

“You said a _tree_ ,” Steve pointed out.

“Shut up.” Bucky rolled his eyes. He also filled the tree with big gift boxes wrapped in shiny red and green ribbons.

Natasha called later to wish them Merry Christmas but also required cheesy pictures of the couple, because apparently a fake-relationship was a full-time job and there were no vacations, and she said it speaking for herself. In some ways, Natasha was part of that relationship as much as Bucky and Steve were.

They drank cider and champagne while waiting for each other to get ready for the dinner, seating around the living room with Becca’s “party on” playlists playing on the background. It was close to midnight when they decided to exchange the presents.

Becca was quite thrilled with her collection of presents, except perhaps with Steve’s ones: a set with all the best superhero movies he personally graded and a “survival manual” for amateur chefs. She rolled her eyes so hard that, for a moment, Steve was actually concerned the girl might have gotten stuck. But even with the playfulness, Rebecca’s eyes ended up fixed on her newly acquired silver chain with a star-shaped red ruby pendant. Bucky’s gift.

“My turn.” Bucky smiled to Steve, walking closer to him with a tiny black box in his hands. The three ladies were too busy on the couches going through their own gifts to give both of them much thought.

“Please don’t let it be expired drive-thru coupons,” Steve laughed nervously, only half kidding. “Not _again_ , Buck.”

Bucky’s lips spread in such an amused and _gorgeous_ grin Steve was taken aback by that guy’s beauty. _God_ , he was handsome. “Don’t worry, I’m not the type of guy who plays the same card twice.”

Steve caught himself smiling back. Bucky held out his hand, offering for Steve to take the box. Steve opened to find a large silver watch shining once displayed to the room’s light.

A watch.

Steve wasn’t ungrateful or anything, but he kind of expected... _more_. Something personal. Meaningful. Something _theirs_.

Steve was overreacting. Bucky didn’t owe him anything personal. Just because Steve felt like giving him a thoughtful gift, Bucky wasn’t obliged to do the same. It wasn’t like Steve needed it as some sort of evidence that he wasn’t the only one developing feelings out of that messed up situation they were in. That he wasn’t putting himself into a platonic tragedy. At least he shouldn’t be creating too many expectations.

“Thanks, Bucky.” Steve forced his smile to look genuine. “That’s very nice of you.”

Bucky’s expression looked puzzled, like Steve’s reaction wasn’t exactly what he was expecting. “Wait, but th-”

“What’s this?” Becca suddenly shouted, and Steve notice that the girl was kneeling beside Bucky’s feet. She had some pieces of thick paper playing on her hands.

“Wait! Where did you find these?” Bucky tried to reach out for them, but the girl dodged him.

“It fell from your pocket,” she opened an envelope and inhaled loudly, exasperated. “Six plane tickets to Rio? Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Language!” Steve scolded at the same time that Bucky said, “Rebecca, give it back!”

“Is it for me?” Rebecca looked at Bucky with her eyes wide. “I mean, is it for us?”

“It was supposed to be a surprise,” Bucky sighed and rubbed his face. “But, yeah, Merry Christmas everybody, we’re going to Rio for New Year’s Eve.”

“Oh, my God! I’ve always wanted to see Brazilian beaches!” Rebecca hugged Bucky and he wrapped his arms around her while staring at Steve with a questioning look, as if he was asking _are you coming?_ , and hell yes. “Wait, does it snow on beaches?”

“No,” Bucky replied, “and it’s summer for them, so you’ll enjoy as many beaches as you want.”

“Great. I need to buy bikinis. When are we leaving?” Becca asked.

“Excuse me, I’m no math expert,” Steve interrupted, “but there’s just five people in this room. Who’s the sixth ticket?”

“Certainly Natasha,” Peggy pointed out before Bucky could, as if it was a most obvious answer. Angie rolled her eyes at Steve.

“You’re giving her a New Year’s trip to Brazil?” Steve blurted out almost accusatory, directing his gaze back to Bucky.

“I’m giving all of _us_ a new year trip to Brazil,” Bucky corrected him, unaffected. “Of course I paid for Nat, she’s a friend. Besides, she’s our adviser, she has to go along.”

As soon as Bucky let the word _adviser_ slip out, Steve choked and Peggy cleared her throat loudly, calling Bucky’s attention to his mistake. He tried to ignore it and let the conversation flow, but Rebecca looked at him.

“Adviser for what?” Rebecca asked.

“Job,” Bucky replied as fast as he could.

“He meant she’s his assistant,” Angie tried.

“Personal assistant,” Steve corrected.

“For you both?” Rebecca frowned.

“Yes,” Steve, Bucky and Angie said in unison before Peggy clapped her hands and said, “Steve, why don’t you go with Bucky to solve that problem behind the fridge we saw this morning?”

“What problem?” Bucky asked.

“Oh, I bet it’s nothing, probably a tiny thing two guys can solve easily with all this masculinity of yours,” Angie waved her hands dismissively and pushed Bucky and Steve towards the kitchen, exchanging meaningful glances with Steve while they walked away. It was time for Steve’s present.

Steve shoved his hands inside his pockets, a bit nervous, when Bucky held the sides of the fridge and pulled in forward. “What’s wrong with the fridge? Everything seems fine.”

“Take a better look.” Steve nodded towards its back, an inevitable small smile fighting its way into his mouth. He bit his lip to cover it.

Bucky glanced at him as if he didn’t understand a thing about what was happening, but directed himself towards behind the fridge nonetheless.

Steve got to see his eyes bulge, bright and shiny. Bucky’s mouth split a little, as he finally spotted the canvas hidden and removed it from the shadows.

“Steve.” Bucky inhaled that single word, incapable of organizing his thoughts. Steve’s chest was filled with a warm feeling instantly, proud of himself for bringing that reaction out of Bucky.

It was a large canvas filled with a dusty grey background, the shades of a blood-red star covering the entire middle and James Barnes silhouette in it. In the image, Bucky was staring ahead, his long dark hair covering part of his defined face. Steve spent weeks trying to master his singular features, but he finally reached a satisfying result. Bucky was sitting cross-legged, his shoulders leaning forward, his muscular back a bit curved. Steve made sure to capture his shadow of a growing beard, the arch of his brows as if he was caught in a moment of intense thoughts running through his mind. His hands were laced together. Steve liked the way it represented Bucky’s individuality. Autonomy. He didn’t need someone. He raised himself _and_ a younger sister. He was so strong. Steve could only hope that Bucky himself was capable of seeing the sentiments he tried to transfer to his brush.

Steve could consider himself an artist in many ways, but that was the first time he painted a canvas for someone besides his mother. At first, he was a bit insecure about painting Bucky, but Bucky seemed to like when he was drawn by Steve. He always offered to pose for him whenever Steve was drawing, and didn’t feel uncomfortable with Steve staring so intensely at him in complete silence for hours. It was something they shared. It was theirs. Even if this specific piece took him longer because he paid more attention to the details, Steve enjoyed the process, and even more the result.

“I like the way you see me through your eyes. It’s like you’re seeing... inside of me.” Bucky complimented. He hadn’t taken his eyes off of the painting yet.

“It’s not a trip to Rio, but it’s...” Steve started.

“Perfect,” Bucky completed, finally looking at Steve. His stare was deep and meaningful. “It’s the best present I’ve ever received.”

Steve could swear that some undiscovered type of magnetic force was slowly drawing him forward to Bucky as they stared at each other with pursed lips and incapable of forming coherent sentences. Steve’s heart was beating quickly. He tried to meet Bucky’s eyes, but the man’s were already focused on Steve’s half parted mouth.

“Hey, are you guys done? I need a bottle of apple cider and you’re blocking the way,” Rebecca’s voice startled both of them, and they took a step back, astonished. “Anyway, who’s hungry? I need food in my system, so, move along.”

Everybody went to the dinner table, properly decorated for the occasion, and ate until they were full. Angie and Peggy received Bucky and Becca’s compliments for the great food, both of the siblings making a point of emphasizing the fact that Steve being kept away from the stove was crucial for the success of the event. Steve, on the other hand, made sure to flip them off.

The adults were slightly drunk to the point that Bucky took Becca to dance when his favorite Grease song started playing. He was swinging as if he was John Travolta himself, and swirling her by the waist. For the first time Steve got to see Rebecca not acting like a tiny rebel teenager and actually dancing with Bucky like they had done it since forever. Their bodies moved effortlessly. Steve was amazed to see their rhythm and energy. He was starting to get why Bucky liked to dance that much. He felt so confident dancing.

By the middle of the song, Rebecca went swirling to Steve’s side and grabbed his hands, pulling him to his feet and handing him over to Bucky. Steve found quickly himself moved by the rhythm of the song as Bucky took hold of his hands and helped him move with it.

Bucky smiled as he held Steve’s waist with one hand and pulled them both together. Steve felt a bit dizzy when they started to spin, as well as thrilled by Bucky’s touch, the dance, the song, everything.

Bucky was drunkenly humming the song. _“You’re the one that I want, uh uh uh honey...”_ One of his knees was between Steve’s legs as they swung from side to side with Bucky’s hands on Steve’s body. _“The one that I need, oh yes, indeed.”_

Then Rebecca was also dancing with both Peggy and Angie, and all of them were laughing and the song was long over before Steve noticed he was just stupidly and silently staring at Bucky’s mouth with his arms around him.

“For God’s sake, am I cock blocking you? Do I have to hang some mistletoe for you guys to kiss each other already?” Rebecca said with a tone of voice that clearly meant she was rolling her eyes like she always did.

And Bucky laughed, ducking his chin as if he was trying to hide his face or swear at his sister. Steve tried to laugh too, and he would have just gone with the flow and ignored the palpable tension between them, but then Bucky licked his lips and flicked his eyes to Steve’s mouth. And Steve was suddenly breathless, because he couldn’t believe how gorgeous Bucky could be, so he leaned and covered Bucky’s mouth with his own.

Bucky’s mouth was warm and welcoming and _God_ , how much he had missed it. He wanted more, but it was it was driving him crazy, so he resolved to finish it quickly, just a touch of the lips to stop Becca’s suspicions. But then Bucky’s hand moved to Steve’s nape, pinning him in place, and it was not Steve that was kissing Bucky anymore, but Bucky who was kissing Steve. And as much as Steve tried to maintain his sanity, Bucky being the one controlling it was too arousing.

So Steve tangled his fingers in Bucky’s hair, pulling it. Bucky’s lips parted in response and he licked Steve’s lips. Steve opened his mouth and tasted Bucky. It was hard to keep his mouth closed.

Bucky was _kissing_ Steve.

Their mouths’ movements got rough and hard, equal hunger emanating from both men. Steve wasn’t sure how long it lasted, but when it finally came to an end it was only because their lungs were aching for more air. Their mouths parted only enough so their noses were still bumping while they heavily breathed against each other’s lips, gasping for air.

Then they opened their eyes as if both of them had come back to reality, and they moved a couple more inches apart from one another, wide eyes intensely fixed in each other. The room was so silent Steve could hear his own racing heartbeat.

“ _Awkward,_ ” Becca hummed behind them.

“Well,” Peggy cleared her throat, “I think we got to go.”

Steve _and_ Bucky both took involuntary steps to create more space between them. “Oh. Why- why so early?” Steve replied a bit startled.

“You ladies can stay over,” Bucky added as confused as Steve.

“It’s late and we’re having lunch at Angie’s parents’ tomorrow. Thank you so much for everything and specially for thinking of us to go with you guys to the trip. We’re truly honored.”

“Just fuck already,” Angie concluded.

Peggy almost shoved her fiancée through the door on their way out.

Rebecca made a point to mock them a little more while picking her gift boxes. “I think it’s time for kids to sleep. _Sleep_ , okay?” She winked dramatically their way, before heading upstairs.

“Oh, you want me to check for the boogeyman for you, kiddo?” Bucky yelled, a grin already plastered in his face.

“Bite me,” Becca replied before she closed the door of Bucky’s ex-bedroom with a loud thud.

Steve and Bucky headed to the master bedroom, both slightly stumbling on the furniture while taking their shoes off. Steve seized the opportunity when Bucky sneaked into the bathroom to change his clothes and sit on bed.

He took his phone and pretended scroll through something while waiting for Bucky to get in bed with him, trying to pretend he wasn’t _that_ excited to sleep with Bucky after that ridiculously amazing kiss.

The door opened and Steve pretended not to notice, following the steps out of  the corner of his eye. Bucky stood in front of Steve for a couple of seconds in silence. Steve looked up, perplexed. “What?” he asked lightly.

“You know you’re on my side, right?” Bucky looked dead serious, with one arched brow.

“You mean _your_ side of _my_ bed?” Steve chuckled.

“I slept here yesterday, which means I chose this side.”

Steve pretended to be offended. “How dare you choose a side on my bed? All the sides of this bed are mine.”

“Oh, no. _This side_ ,” Bucky pointed, “chose _me,_ I was destined to sleep on here. It’s fate, not my fault if you don’t believe in soul mates, now move your ass, Rogers.”

“You were destined to sleep on my bed?” Steve said, quietly processing that sentence several ways ways. Bucky opened a smirk.

“Are you going to move or not?” Bucky questioned.

“It depends. Are you going to steal my blanket again or not?”

“I didn’t steal your blanket. I sleep like a baby.” The last sentence was not entirely a lie. Steve was in love with watching Bucky sleep.

“You rolled over me, stole my blanket and filled my mouth with your bird’s nest of hair.” Steve gave up and moved to the other side.

“There are some sacrifices you have to make to sleep with this hot body next to you, buddy,” Bucky chuckled.

“Who said I applied for this?” Steve made a fake-offended tone of voice.

“You did when you cuddled up to me on that cruise.”

“That is a very serious accusation. I did it because of your nightmares. You’re welcome, by the way.” Steve pulled the blankets up and threw one side of it on Bucky, chuckling.

“Yeah, I supposed you’re not entirely worthless, after all.”

Bucky gave him a soft laugh as an answer and then they fell into a comfortable silence. Steve didn’t know exactly how much time passed, but he couldn’t take his mind off of a question that he wanted to ask.

“It wasn’t just because you weren’t used to the bed right? What was it?” He blurted out. Steve didn’t need to clarify it was about the nightmares for Bucky to know what he was referring to.

“It’s... it’s nothing. Don’t worry about that.”

“Are you afraid of the dark or something?” Steve asked, curious.

“No, Steve, it’s just- just bad dreams about a bad past.” Bucky rolled on his side and gave Steve his back.

Steve couldn’t stop at this point. He wasn’t any close to the explanations, but he wanted it so bad. He wanted to know about Bucky and it felt unfair that he didn’t. “Does it have anything to do with your father?”

“No, it was after that. I don’t wanna think about it.”

“Does it have to do with your youthful mistakes?”

Bucky was silent for so long Steve thought for a moment he wouldn’t answer or had already gone to sleep, but after a sigh, he murmured, “Yeah.”

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

“No.”

Steve bit his lips, disappointed but not entirely surprised with Bucky’s reaction. He felt a bit guilty for pushing Bucky. After a couple of minutes, Bucky rolled over again, coming face to face with Steve, their foreheads so close Steve could feel the warmth of his breath against his own lips. Bucky had that uneasy look again. His eyes were flitting over Steve’s features, as if he was analyzing.

“I’m a mess, Steve, and it’s not the kind of mess you want in your life.”


	10. TAKE TEN

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A huuuge thank to [Bruno Rocha](https://www.facebook.com/desenhistabrunorocha/), an amazing artist who made himself available to do a piece of work for this story. Thank you for putting so much efforts, for drawing until late at night, thank you, my friend, for giving me such an incredible gift!

**Tuesday, December 29** ** th ** **, 2015**

 

“So, this is the part of the world where the sun has been hiding for all these months?” Becca practically jumped her way out of the airplane. Steve and Bucky were right behind her, Bucky shaking his head with a cute smile at his sister’s silly excitement.

Steve felt like the air was embracing him like he was suddenly inside of a sauna. It was hot like the west coast of the United States, but more humid. The view on the plane had been truly amazing and they arrived at midday, flying over the glittering, blue sea.

“This weather is gonna do wonders to my skin! Can’t wait to try on the bikinis we bought last week, right, love?” Angie held Peggy by her waist as they followed to the jet bridge.

They went through the immigration system and remaining bureaucratic processes and, as they got close to the arrival gate, Steve noticed a large group of people next to the door and giving trouble to the security guards. They were all wearing Captain America shirts, holding posters, and some of them with LGBT flags. As soon as they spotted Steve, they started to scream.

“Don’t tell me someone notified the press about our _secret_ trip,” Steve grunted.

“It’s part of my job, sweetie,” he heard Natasha’s voice behind him with a shade of a smile.

The crowd shortly involved them, so Steve wasn’t given the chance to reply properly, although that didn’t stop him from regretting her tagging along. It soon became chaotic with the amount of people around them, and Steve was only able to see from the corner of his eye as Peggy and Angie strategically redirected Rebecca to another exit with them as if they were only tourists who coincidentally arrived with worldwide famous actors.

He also noticed Bucky’s thankful gaze towards them for that.

Fury had sent two bodyguards to escort them during the trip, a matter of security, and, given all the information Steve had gotten, Pierce asked for the photographer guy, Rumlow, to follow them too. Their special getaway had become yet another stunt of the fake-relationship agreement.

Steve was able to give a handful of autographs before the security crew helped the two men out and escorted them to the van where the ladies were already waiting, with Natasha following right behind. They soon arrived at a colonial-styled white hotel placed across from the Copacabana beach. It looked like it ruled the place, with a variety of countries’ flags displayed on the top.

Bucky booked four rooms, two for each of the couples and the other ones entirely for Rebecca and Natasha. Becca almost lost it when she realized she had a whole suite all for herself.

“What are the plans for today?” Peggy asked once everybody was settled.

“The schedule for the afternoon is vacant, but I booked reservations at a fine restaurant for dinner,” Natasha commented while checking her iPad.

“We have to follow a schedule?” Steve retorted.

“Yeah, why? Have you searched all the tourist spots and local traditions, and made reservations for dinner and New Year’s Eve party by yourself?” she questioned.

“No, but I thought-”

“Well, I have. And thanks to that you’ll know where to eat, who to speak with and where to go. Frankly, Rogers, you have to trust me,” Natasha finished, handing all of them a flyer with a map on the cover. “Anyway, you guys can have lunch at the beach. The Museum of Tomorrow is open until 6 p.m., and is one of the new attractions in the city, as well as the AquaRio, which is an aquarium.  There is also the-”

“Alright, I’m going to the beach! Who’s coming _now?_ ” Rebecca cut in and headed to her suite.

“I’m with her,” Angie announced, also getting up from her spot and being shortly followed by Peggy. “Need a _t-a-n_ urgently, you know?” Angie spelled, pointing at herself and following Rebecca to the elevator.

 

E-ONLINE: _Steve Rogers and James Barnes spotted at Brazilian airport taking pictures with fans. Sources say they’re staying at Copacabana beach with friends._

EGO: _Exclusive! Actors Steve Rogers and James Barnes are caught taking a lovely walk at Copacabana beach! See the pictures here._

 

The water was dead cold on the beach, but with the sun baking everyone, it was refreshing and relaxing to stay in the ocean. Except, once they realized how strong the waves were and how easily they could carry them out to sea.

Steve took off his clothes as soon as they arrived and ran to the water. He emerged and saw Bucky still testing the temperature with his feet. “C’mon, the water is great!”

“You know I don’t do well with cold water.”

“You’re a fussy baby, you know that?” Steve chuckled. “You’re in Rio and not gonna enjoy the beaches?”

“I am, I’m just- Steve! Behind you!” Bucky warned.

“Nice try. I’ll not fall for that, these waters are shark-free.”

“No! Seriously-” Before Bucky could finish his sentence, a big wave broke upon Steve and dragged his body forward, filling his mouth and nose with burning, salty water. Steve lost his footing in the sand, and for an endless second of panic, he thought he was going to drown.

A pair of hands took hold of his arms. Bucky was alarmed when Steve got out of the water, gripping at Bucky’s shoulders and breathing hard, his body meeting Bucky’s as the waves carried them closer. Bucky was all wet by then. Steve felt the salt burn his nostrils and he started coughing.

“Are you okay?” Bucky questioned, passing one arm around Steve’s waist. He used one hand to brush Steve’s face and remove the remaining of water.

Suddenly, the water was not cold at all.

“Yeah,” Steve coughed again and rubbed his burning nose. “I was completely unprepared for that. But it was fun.”

“It didn’t seem fun to me. There’s sand in your hair.”

“Whatever. Your turn.”

“No, no, no-”

“You’re already all wet, jerk, let’s go!” Steve held Bucky’s wrist and pulled him into water.

 

They had rented a table with beach umbrellas and chaise lounges and, after the beach bath, tried fresh fish sticks, cooked mussels, and fries — nothing sophisticated — but it was what everybody was eating. The bartender also made them try a Brazilian drink made of lemon and sugar, but they only realized Rebecca shouldn’t be drinking that _after_ she downed the first glass in one swallow. Bucky almost freaked out when he discovered the drink contained sugarcane liquor.

They were all chatting and trying out the exotic foods when Steve felt a sharp strike on the back side of his head out of nowhere. He was disoriented for a brief moment before he noticed a ball by his feet.

“Pô, cara, foi mal!” a strong voice came from behind him, making Steve turn in response. A brunet smiled apologetically to him, his left hand on the back of his neck, scratching uncomfortably. “Você tá bem?”

Steve wrinkled his nose and smiled back. “Sorry, I don’t speak Portuguese.” Steve picked up the ball. The brunet had tanned skin like the beach was his natural habitat, unshaved beard and wavy dark-brown hair. He was quite handsome.

The brunet arched his brows. “Oh, right.” He laughed. “Sorry about that, are you okay?”

“I’m fine, just a bit dizzy.” Steve threw the ball to the guy and he caught it.

“Do you play volleyball?” he asked.

“Not well, I guess,” Steve laughed. Being good at sports wasn’t part of his list of skills, and, thankfully, it wasn’t required for his job either.

“Well, that’s not a problem, we’re not professionals. Do you wanna join in? You can bring your friend, too.” The brunet pointed his chin behind Steve, towards Bucky.

Steve looked at Bucky, who was arching a brow questioningly. “Yeah, why not?” Steve replied.

The brunet headed to an improvised court with a volleyball net where more guys and ladies were waiting for the ball, all of them wearing nothing but shorts, trunks, or bikinis, partly covered in sand, and heavily tanned. Steve looked back at Bucky who was being abnormally quiet while they followed the guy.

“You okay?” Steve murmured to Bucky.

“Yeah, I’m perfectly fine. That was very kind of him to invite your _friend,_ too.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Bucky’s jaw got rigid. “Of course.”

The guy turned to them. “By the way, I’m Tiago. You?”

“Steve, and he’s Bucky,” replied Steve.

“Ok, Steve.” Tiago smiled charmingly. “So, there’s a spot for you on my team and your friend Bucky can fill in the other one. You guys know the rules?”

“Yeah, I think I know how to throw a ball,” Bucky grumbled.

Steve wasn’t sure if Tiago heard him or just chose to ignore the comment, but they soon took their positions and the game started. Tiago’s team was winning two sets to one. Steve was trying to avoid any excessive contact with the ball, letting the others do their magic while only stepping in when necessary. Bucky, on the contrary, was very good at it and was willing to give the other team a run for their money. Steve knew Bucky was the athletic type, but he wasn’t fully aware of the brunet’s skills. Tiago himself wasn’t much behind.

Apparently, Steve was the only one who skipped the how-to-be-a-fucking-Olympian class at school.

And Tiago seemed to notice that. When it was their turn to serve the ball, Tiago called Steve to the serve line and threw the ball at him. “Your turn,” he said.

“I don’t think this is a good idea,” Steve chuckled, about to give back the ball.

“C’mon, it’s easy, I’ll teach you. It’s all about the strength you use when you hit the ball.” Tiago stood beside Steve. He took Steve’s left hand and placed it in front of Steve’s body with the ball on it, using his other hand directly on Steve’s skin to adjust his posture. “I noticed you’re right-handed. Use your non-dominant hand to hold the ball, now ready your hitting-hand.”

He raised Steve’s right hand over his head. Tiago was dangerously close to Steve, and that realization made Steve’s eyes drift instantly in Bucky’s direction. Bucky’s glare was carefully on him. “Like this, steady. Toss the ball and hit it now. It’s okay if you’re not good at first.”

Tiago let go of Steve and stepped back. Steve threw the ball in the air and gave it a hit. The ball successfully passed to the other side of the net and started a new match. Tiago gave Steve a congratulatory smile and the game went on.

Bucky was scoring a lot of points, and soon his teammates were cheering and praising his performance. But Bucky had a focused gaze on his face as he concentrated fully on his task. It looked almost like it wasn’t just a _game_ anymore, but instead had become something personal. It was Bucky’s turn to serve off and he directed his focus right to Steve’s left. Steve immediately tensed up, ready to be the one to catch if it came to it.

But the hit never came.

The ball smacked Tiago, who was at Steve’s left side. The man was on the sand in a matter of seconds.

The game was briefly interrupted when Tiago’s teammates all came to help him and check if everything was alright. Steve took the chance to go near the net, where Bucky was standing on the other side, and discretely murmured to him, “Stop it.”

“Stop what?” Bucky smirked, an almost deviously look on his face.

“You know what.”

“Sorry, I don’t know what you’re talking about, Steve,” Bucky whispered to him, and seconds later shouted to the group behind Steve, “You alright, man? Didn’t think it was _that_ hard. My bad.”

He was clearly _not_ that sorry _._

Tiago got up and shook his head as if it was nothing, so they carried on with the game. Bucky seemed less aggressive throughout the rest of the match, but he never really lost that fire in his eyes. Somewhere near the end of the game, Tiago spiked the last ball right to Bucky, making his turn to hit the ground and be covered in sand. Steve laughed his way over to Bucky, offering his hand to help him stand. Bucky just sat there for a couple of seconds, eyes locked with Steve’s, face as unreadable.

“Will you stop now?” Steve asked as Bucky leaned on one elbow.

Bucky cleaned the sand from his face and rolled his eyes. “Fuck you, Rogers.” He placed one hand on Steve’s nape and pulled him abruptly by the neck, making Steve lose his balance and fall with his hands on each side of Bucky. Bucky closed the space between them by sealing his lips to Steve’s. Steve was too astonished to respond properly, but he was able to press his own lips into the kiss Bucky responded to it by firmly gripping Steve’s waist. And _that_ alone caused Steve to let an embarrassing little moan escape the back of his throat.

 _Sweet Jesus._ Steve was definitely _not_ expecting things to take this turn.

Too soon, Bucky pulled back and made a motion as if he was ready to get up. So Steve did, still a little bit unsteady. Bucky, on the other hand, seemed as unaffected as if he was grocery shopping.

Bucky took Steve’s hand in his own and directed Steve back to where their things and the ladies were, not looking back to Tiago and his teammates. Steve didn’t have it in him to get together the stability required to thank them and apologize for leaving so suddenly. Instead, he just followed Bucky, unsure with what to do and how to react.

“I hate Brazil,” Bucky grumbled to himself before they reached their table, where Peggy and Angie were sitting with coconuts on their hands.

“Hey there, athletes,” Peggy greeted them, taking another sip before adding “Good job over there, James. Didn’t take you as that sports type.”

“Where’s Becca?” Bucky asked to Angie, ignoring her comment. She looked at Steve, arching her brow in a silent question. Steve shrugged.

Peggy pointed towards the water, and Steve noticed Rebecca standing close to the water, talking with three boys holding surfboards. Becca laughed at something one of them said, resting her hand on his shoulder. They exchanged a couple of more words before Becca turned to their direction and walked the way over there. She had a big grin printed on her face the entire walk.

“I _love_ Brazil,” Rebecca announced, taking off her shirt and throwing on the nearest vacant chair.

“What are you doing?” Bucky growled.

“Those nice Brazilian boys are gonna teach me surfing! It’s gonna be awesome!” She turned around and followed the boys to the water. Bucky was getting redder and redder.

Angie nudged Peggy’s side. “I’m no Beyoncé but I bet she’ll be graining on that wood soon.”

 

They all got dressed to go out for dinner as Natasha told them to, but when the time came, she strictly insisted that Bucky and Steve took a car just for the two of them, assuring them that it was better for them to arrive alone and not get the cameras to notice Rebecca. Bucky agreed unquestionably.

But then, they arrived at the fancy restaurant Natasha booked. And the women never came.

Steve sent a text to Peggy asking if their car got lost or something to justify their delay. Peggy sent a single text as reply.

 

PEGGY: Natasha thought it would be nice for you to have a date. We agreed. Tell mister protective brother to chill because his little sister’s with us and we’re not going to feed her poison. Well, at least not if you don’t count fast-food as one. You two just focus on having fun xx

 

“Sneaky little shits,” Steve hissed.

“What? What happened?” Bucky asked.

“They set us up!” Steve passed his phone for Bucky to read the message for himself.

Bucky took his phone from his pocket in one single motion and made a call.

“ _What the hell_?” he hissed as soon as the person on the other side of the line picked up. “Is this a bad joke? This isn’t funny, Natasha.”

Steve couldn’t quite distinguish what was being said, but he could see Bucky’s reactions to it when he answered, “I can’t believe you did this. You _all_ did this. It was supposed to be a fun night for everyone. _To-ge-ther._ ” He enunciated each syllable of the last word through clenched teeth.

He rolled his eyes, annoyed at her answer. “I won’t leave it like this. You’re all gonna pay for it. It’s _on_.” He laughed humorlessly, visibly wrapping his head around the idea of a date night for the two of them. But then his features darkened and Bucky stayed silent for a brief moment before adding, even more exasperated than before, “What you mean Rumlow is here? Why- where the fuck is he?”

Bucky wasn’t really happy with Natasha’s answer to that question, considering his reaction was to hang up on her.

Steve didn’t know what to say after a conversation like that, so he tried to figure it out by asking. “What did she say? Where’s the photographer?” he tried.

Bucky sat in silence, before meeting Steve’s eyes and saying, “She told me to find out.”

_Oh._

The photographer was undercover. That meant they would have to pretend to be a couple in love for the duration of dinner. If this wasn’t one of the best tricks Natasha ever played, Steve didn’t know which was.

Steve concluded that was the reason why Bucky was so upset with the whole arrangement. Steve himself was caught by surprise at first, but he couldn’t see why having dinner alone was so unsettling for Bucky. Was the idea of pretending to be his lover that unbearable to Bucky?

The waiter approached and took their orders, leaving them with their wine glasses filled and an open bottle. A not-so-comfortable silence settled between the two men. Steve cleared his throat. “Well, at least it’s not a real date after all,” Steve tried to lighten the mood, chuckling forcedly.

“You don’t want it to be?” Bucky questioned, still serious.

“No. Yes.” Steve looked down at his empty plate and frowned. That was one of those tricky questions again. He wasn’t sure of what answer Bucky wanted to hear. “Maybe?”

Bucky averted his eyes and took a sip of his wine.

More silence.

“Does that bother you?” Steve tried to keep the conversation going.

“Does that bother _you?_ ” Buck retorted. “How about a game?”

“What game?” Steve arched one brow.

“You ask me one question, then I ask you one in return. Only true answers, though. No cheating.” He took another sip from his glass. “You have the chance to plead the fifth and skip a question, but only once.”

Steve pondered. That would be the closest chance to getting to _really_ know Bucky. He wouldn’t miss that for the world. “Deal.”

“What’s your favorite food?” Bucky started right away, clearly taking it easy at the beginning.

“Risotto,” Steve answered, “And Pecan Pie. What’s your favorite color?”

“Red,” Bucky said. “Do you know any other languages?”

“No, but I can fake a very good French accent,” Steve smiled. _“Omelette du fromage.”_

Bucky almost spitted his wine. “You’re ridiculous,” said chuckling.

They kept playing as their food arrived, and played some more through the dinner. When they finished the second bottle of wine and the buzz started to kick in, the questions started to become more personal and their inhibitions lowered.

“What’s wrong with the dude from the beach calling you my friend?” Steve asked during his turn.

Bucky took his sweet time occupying his mouth with another mouthful of wine before answering, “I mean, you’re my _boy_ friend for all the whole world knows. Fake-boyfriend _._ Whatever.”

“Yeah, but they didn’t seem to know us,” Steve continued. “And you _are_ my friend. Aren’t you?”

“That’s not a valid question,” Bucky pointed out. “Do you like kissing me?” He smirked.

Steve rolled his eyes. “You’re on my top 10.”

Bucky chuckle, “C’mon. Say it. It’s yes or no.”

“Course.” Steve shrugged, feeling the blush on his cheeks. “Do you?”

“I don’t know how it is to kiss me, but I’ve been told I’m a good kisser.” Bucky rested his elbow on the back of the chair and tilted his head, a stupidly gorgeous smile playing on his lips.

“Look who’s avoiding the question now, silly.”

“Yeah. I like it.” Bucky straightened in his chair. “Do you want to kiss me right now?”

Steve gaped, trying to form coherent answers, but failing miserably. The way Bucky stared back at him was making his cock twitch. He was instantly aware of how drunk he already was, considering what his impulses were telling him to do.

And he followed them.

Steve leaned on the table, getting insecure for a brief moment about what Bucky would think — how Bucky would react — but then Bucky leaned forward, too, meeting Steve’s lips mid-way. Bucky’s mouth parted open, which almost made Steve lose his mind, and his tongue snaked between Steve’s lips tasting of red wine. Steve sinfully sucked on Bucky’s tongue and got a little moan in response. He closed his mouth and pressed one last little kiss on Bucky’s lips, leaning back on his chair.

“Your cheeks are red,” Bucky murmured.

“It’s the wine.” Steve laughed softly. “My turn. Why were you so pissed when Tiago taught me how to serve the ball?

Bucky hesitated and bit his lower lip for a second. “It kinda wrecked me.”

“Why?” Steve couldn’t help to blurt out.

“Wait for your turn,” he censured Steve.  ”Remember when we were at Stark’s Halloween party?” Then he widened his eyes a bit. “Wait, that wasn’t my question. The thing is, you said you were mine.” Bucky darted his eyes from Steve for a second, and then stared back at him more intensely. “Did you mean that?”

Steve’s mind was practically screaming for him to plead the fifth, but his annoying little hopeful conscious kept reminding him that this could be his only chance to express his torn feelings without the whole weight of reality and soberness. He could always count on putting the blame on the alcohol.

“I _am_ your fake-boyfriend.” He decided to go with the safest bet. “Now, why?  Why did it wreck you?”

“I plead the fifth.” Bucky got up from the table quickly, not looking at Steve.

“What, this is unfair.”

“These are the rules,” Bucky replied.

“Then I’ll annul your plea and summon one of the two favors you owe me from covering your Christmas shift,” Steve said with a presumptuous smile. He got up from the table too as Bucky moved away from it. “Answer me.”

“Now _this_ is unfair,” Bucky pointed out and rolled his eyes. “I was jealous. Satisfied?” Bucky started walking away.

“Where are you going?”

“To pay the bill.” He winked. “Date’s over, baby.”

 

GOSSIP: _Steve Rogers and James Barnes at fancy restaurant in Rio. Check out the pictures!_

 

Everything seemed to be spinning around, and the floor didn’t feel very stable anymore by the time the car pulled up at the hotel’s entrance. Steve and Bucky managed to climb out of it by holding each other, resting their weight partially onto the other. They made it to the lobby, and asked the concierge if they had any knew if the guests from 605 and 606 had arrived. They hadn’t.

Steve and Bucky got to the sixth floor and went down the hall, heading to their own suite. The corridor, like the hotel, had a colonial style with white walls, columns and carpeted floors, lit by small chandeliers. The end of the corridor led to an elegant glass double door. Steve and Bucky’s suite was a few doors before that, but the lighting from outside attracted their attention.

“Let’s check out what’s in that balcony over there,” Bucky said pointing to the far end of the hall.

The glass door opened to a expended balcony, white railing surrounding along the edges, with little palm trees and small decorative shrubs, the fancy lights illuminating Rio’s summer night. There was a medium sized pool with black tiles making the water look black and chaise lounges around it. The balcony was peaceful and completely unoccupied.

“This place is dope,” Bucky breathed.

Steve went straight to the railing. “This is so beautiful,” he said, “I can see the whole hotel and the beach from here.” The view was astounding.

“I’m going for a dip.”

“What?” Steve turned and Bucky was already standing on the water’s edge, loosening his hair and looking eager to get in.

“There’s a whole pool on our floor and nobody around, why not?” Bucky contested.

“We’re not properly clothed for this,” Steve stopped speaking when he noticed Bucky gripping the hem of his shirt. He pulled it over his head in an instant.

“Who said anything about clothes?” Bucky unbuttoned his jeans and pulled them down. He jumped in the water dressed only in boxers.

“Buck! You’re crazy!” Steve hissed.

Bucky emerged from the water laughing drunkenly. “I’m not.”

“You’re drunk,” Steve verified, rolling his eyes. “You’re nearly naked and people could come out here any minute.”

“So what? It’s probably 82 out here. Jump in.” Bucky dove in and emerged. The water streaming down his night-lit face was one of the sexiest views Steve had ever seen.

“Nope. I’ll do it tomorrow.”

“I dare you.” Bucky swam backwards giving Steve space, his steady gaze on him the whole time.

 _Oh, shit, Barnes._ Steve rolled his eyes and decided to take his shirt off. He dropped it on the floor, looking back at Bucky and his darkened eyes sinfully watching. Steve moved his fingers to his pants’ button, and felt his whole body blush. He tried to ignore the sensation.

The water was a bit warm and relaxing. Steve entered the pool and Bucky came swimming to his side.

“See? It feels good,” Bucky said. “Wanna see who get to the other side first?”

“Buck, we’re drunk and this pool is completely dark. I don’t wanna hit my head on the wall, especially when you can barely walk straight, imagine trying to rescue me.”

“You underestimate me.”

Bucky submerged in the water and started swimming, disappearing immediately because of the combination of the pool’s color and the low light. Steve waited for him to come back, but as the seconds passed and Bucky didn’t appear, Steve went after him.

“Shit, Buck, where are you?” Steve grunted, looking for any sign of the man under the water.

Desperation was beginning to flow through his veins, as he splashed water all around searching for Bucky without succeeding. Fear started to creep into Steve’s chest and he almost screamed Bucky’s name, but it was like he was alone in the dark pool.

And then something gripped his right ankle, making Steve almost jump out of his skin. Bucky emerged seconds later.

“You motherfuc-” Steve started to curse Bucky, who was engulfed in laughter, but the words were cut off by a grunt of frustration mixed with anger that escaped his throat. He started to push at Bucky’s torso to unload some of his irritation, “I can’t fucking believe you did this, you piece of shit, you scared the crap out of me!”

Bucky, still lightly laughing, grabbed Steve’s wrists, stopping his actions. He gradually stopped laughing, and his soft smile turned into a serious expression when he fixed his eyes on Steve’s and confessed, “Now you know how I felt back on the beach this afternoon.”

Steve was speechless. Yes, Bucky’s stupid prank was still bothering him, his nerves were not back to normal quite yet. But Steve understood what Bucky meant as clear as day. Steve had scared _Bucky_ when he almost drowned in the sea. But _Steve_ hadn’t faked it, unlike Bucky.

“I’m sorry.” Steve didn’t know exactly what he was apologizing for. But if Bucky felt what Steve just felt when the waves almost carried Steve out to sea, he felt like it was the right thing to do.

A minute or two passed in silence, as Bucky tried to think the right thing to say. “I was scared,” he admitted, his voice suddenly a lot in a tone much lower than the usual. “So fucking scared, Steve.”

Bucky took a step closer to Steve in the water. Then another. Steve felt as if his feet were glued to the pool floor.

“Buck,” Steve exhaled softly, measuring the space between Bucky and him. “Why did you want to know if I meant it? At Stark’s Halloween party.” He needed to know why Bucky persisted on that subject, even if he tried to forget his stupid slip.

Bucky’s fingers reached Steve’s face and cradled his chin while he watched. Bucky’s eyes seemed to be trying to memorize every inch of Steve.

“I’m not your friend, Steve.”

That was _not_ the answer Steve was hoping for. But it precisely answered a lot of things.

Bucky grabbed Steve’s hand and rested it in his as he took the final step to the point where their chests were one inch apart.

Steve’s eyes were focused on Bucky’s lips. Those reddish lips, with their familiar warmth and softness.

“Wait. You’re wasted, Buck.” Steve tried to form a coherent sentence, but with Bucky standing so close to him that little water drops were falling from the tips of Bucky’s long locks onto Steve’s chest, Steve was _very_ distracted, to say the least. “Someone might see us.”

Bucky lifted his other hand to Steve’s nape, resting his fingers there in a soft grip. “Isn’t that the whole point of all this? Convince the public of our undeniable love?”

“I don’t think that’s very convincing.”

Bucky sighed, misunderstanding Steve’s words and taking a couple of steps back. “And what do you think it is?”

Steve didn’t mean to sound like he was rejecting Bucky, so this time around _Steve_ was the one to walk to Bucky and press him against the pool’s edge with his own waist against Bucky’s. That seemed to rip a sharp breath through clenched teeth out of Bucky’s lungs. “I meant only your hand on the nape of my neck wasn’t very convincing to an outsider. If we’re gonna do this, might as well do it right,” Steve couldn’t help but give him a crooked grin, satisfied with Bucky’s physical responses to his touch.

“Yeah?” Bucky breathed the word.

“Yeah,” Steve breathed back, his voice husky and low. So he started by placing his hands on Bucky’s shoulders and letting them slide down, exploring his sides. He rested one on each side of his hips and fit his head at the space between Bucky’s neck and shoulder. Steve breathed in and out, not really doing anything for a couple of seconds. Bucky’s breath sped up in anticipation. Steve placed a single light kiss on top of his jugular, making him able to feel Bucky’s pulse against his lips. Bucky’s skin bristled. At the same time, he put just a _tiny_ bit more of pressure against Bucky’s hips. Bucky grabbed the hair on Steve’s nape in one single motion, bringing his head back to eye-to-eye level.

“That’s enough, don’t you think?” Bucky asked, tone just as hoarse.

Steve took a couple of seconds to find his own voice. “Yes,” he breathed, nodding slowly. But he couldn’t take his eyes off of that pretty little red mouth. So, without thinking, Steve declared, “No,” and sealed his lips hard against the other man’s mouth.

Steve cupped Bucky’s face with both of his wet hands, not even a bit gentle, while pressing his body to Bucky’s, trying to get more and more skin contact. Bucky took a deep breath before loosening his lips against Steve’s and Steve pressed one knee between Bucky’s legs, spreading them a bit.

It wasn’t soft, or sweet. Their movements were rushed, heated and almost painful, but it was the _good_ kind of pain. The kind that left Steve wanting more, so he pressed harder against Bucky’s mouth, impatiently waiting for Bucky to part his lips. Once he finally did, Steve’s tongue was tasting his mouth in a matter of seconds. The familiar warmth of Bucky’s mouth invaded Steve’s senses.

Steve’s hands covered Bucky’s waist once again only to slide down to his ass, grabbing it roughly. Bucky’s reaction to it was to arch his back off the pool wall and into Steve’s chest. A little moan escaped Bucky’s throat going straight into Steve through their connected mouths. That sound alone made Steve’s dick throb.

Bucky felt that too, judging by the second moan that followed right after. Shivers crawled down Steve’s spine. Both men shivered in unison, their skin hot waves in contrast to the water temperature. Their warm, wet mouths exchanging tastes and sharing arousing moans. Bucky’s hands traveled over Steve’s neck, wandering by his collarbone and his torso, exploring new areas and caressing Steve’s skin, until they were scratching, softly at first, but enough to drive Steve mad. Steve wanted Bucky so bad. He wanted every inch of that man, tasting every flavor. He was breathless just thinking about.

Steve broke the kiss, holding Bucky’s face in his hands once again. Bucky’s red lips were open, and he was breathing hard. He just wanted to make sure it was really happening. Steve let go of Bucky’s face and led his hands to the man’s legs, gripping at the back of Bucky’s thighs and pulling them up as he pressed his body forward. Bucky wrapped his legs around Steve and cupped Steve’s face with both hands.

“You’re gorgeous,” Bucky exhaled on Steve’s lips.

“Shit, Buck.” Steve’s heart skipped a beat. He pressed his mouth to Bucky’s once again, not able to stand one more second without it.

The water resistance suddenly felt like a whole ocean between them. Steve placed his hands on the edge of the pool behind Bucky and pulled Bucky and himself out of the pool. Once out of the water, Steve rested Bucky’s body on the floor and crawled back on top of him.

Water was running off of their bodies. Steve started to laugh to himself.

“What?” Bucky asked, amused.

“It’s nothing,” he assured him, diving right back to capture the other man’s bottom lip between his teeth, but Bucky avoided the kiss, not looking convinced. Steve laughed a little more and admitted, “It’s just... who’s leading now?”

Bucky laughed hard, and loud. He shoved Steve’s right shoulder, “Fuck you, Rogers.”

“Anytime.”

Steve captured Bucky’s jawline with his mouth, tracing wet kisses on his neck to the sound of Bucky’s little moans of pleasure. Steve caught Bucky’s skin between his teeth and sucked, lowering his mouth along Bucky’s collarbone and torso. Bucky’s breath hitched as he tried to keep himself quiet, and his hands crawled to Steve’s hair, fingers intertwining in Steve’s locks.

“Well, we were wondering where you guys were but I guess the answer is... busy.” Becca’s voice cut the air. Steve felt a cold shiver spread through his body in a matter of seconds, like a kid being caught by his parents. Bucky’s body beneath him went as still.

A sudden push shoved Steve away from Bucky and he lost his balance, falling into the pool in surprise. When Steve emerged from the water, Bucky was on his feet, obviously embarrassed.

“It’s not what you’re thinking,” Bucky said, exasperated.

“Oh, I ain’t thinking anything, bro.” She smiled, deviously. “I’m seeing it.”

Steve didn’t know a face could get so red until he looked at Bucky.

 

 **Wednesday, December 30** ** th ** **, 2015**

 

Steve’s head was pounding as if one billion mini-workers were doing construction inside it. He buried his face in the pillow, desperately wanting it to stop. But the tum-tum-tum kept going, in an almost rhythmical way. Steve’s consciousness slowly came back, and with it the realization that the loud thuds were actual knocks on their suite door.

_Shit._

Steve got up in a single move, which caused him to almost fall straight to the floor if it wasn’t for the nightstand by the bed. His head was swirling, an unbearable headache stopping him from thinking straight. The knocks didn’t cease until Steve managed to open the door.

“You’re late,” Natasha simply announced, not even troubling herself into greeting Steve.

“Good morning, Romanoff.” Steve faked a bright smile, sarcastically adding, “I see you’re in a great mood today.”

“No time for jokes, Rogers. It’s almost eight a.m. and you all have a boat trip in an hour.” Her expression never once faltered at Steve’s attempt at humor. She passed by Steve with quick steps and crossed the room, opening the curtains. The sunrays invaded the local spilled into the room and Steve had to close his eyes for a moment before he got too dizzy to stay standing. _Jesus_. He was totally hungover.

He heard Bucky groaning on the other side of the room, momentarily reminding him that his fake-boyfriend also had his fair share of alcohol and was probably in the same state as him.

“Oh, Natasha, c’mon,” Steve protested. “I can’t make it today.”

“Why the hell not?”

“I’m not feeling well.” Steve turned his back to the red-haired woman. “I’m sick to my stomach and I have an awful headache right now. I just wanna sleep.”

“Well, you had all night for that,” Natasha said without pity, still moving around the room. “ _Now_ , it’s time to get dressed, put some sunblock and a big smile on your faces for the lovely boat trip you two are about to... Steve, what’s that on your chest?”

Steve looked down at his bare chest and noticed a few red lines looking like fading scratches all over his torso. _Nails_ scratches. _Fuck, fuck, fuck._

It all came back to him at once. Bucky’s skin pressed against his own, Bucky’s soft lips against Steve’s, his tongue tracing lines on Bucky’s belly. It all came back crystal clear. Steve almost lost his breath remembering the intensity of the previous night’s events. It was _real_. They were completely wasted, sure, but it happened. It really did.

 _“_ Oh, those are, hm-” He tried to think fast, “It was itching so bad, I must have used a little bit too much nail scratching at it.”

“Yeah, I figured.” Natasha narrowed her eyes, clearly not buying any of it. “James, you too, get up. I want you both downstairs all nice and clean and in your happiest state ever in thirty minutes.”

“That won’t be possible,” grunted Bucky. His face was covered by a pillow and he didn’t seem like he could manage to move a limb.

“What happened to you two last night?” Natasha questioned.

“We’re hungover,” Steve replied tiredly, walking back to his bed. “We drank too much wine, I guess.”

“I can’t believe you!” Romanoff scratched her hair as if she was thinking of what to do. “I’m not being paid to babysit.” She turned on her heel and headed to the door. “I’ll be back in ten minutes with some Advil. Do me a favor, at least get dressed and ready to go.”

Natasha closed the door, thankfully not too hard, behind her and left the room in silence. Steve went to the bathroom and washed his face, trying to lift his spirit a bit. When he was back to the room, he noticed Bucky’s progress in at least opening his eyes.

“I don’t remember how I got here,” Bucky confessed, his eyes fixed at the white ceiling.

“What’s the last thing you remember?” Steve asked, resting his weight against the bathroom’s doorframe, arms crossed and gaze on Bucky, unsure with how much Bucky knew about the previous night and in what kind of ground did they stand at that point.

“Oh.” Bucky closed his eyes and rubbed his face, laughing softly and husky. “We played a game of questions and we kissed.” The sound of his voice was like a symphony. “Then we got to the hotel. There was a balcony with a black pool. We got in and-” Bucky widened his eyes, placing his fingertips on the bruised spots on his neck. “ _Shit_ ,” he mouthed.

“And?” Steve asked, making Bucky blush.

“Nothing,” Bucky rushed.

“That didn’t sound like nothing.”

Bucky sit on the bed and turned his face towards Steve’s direction, giving him a weak smile before saying, “I may have done a few things I regret.” It almost sounded like a question _._ Steve thought he would have to deal with Amnesia Bucky again, but it was actually worse than that. Bucky regretted making out with him. “Sorry for saying I’m not your friend. Of course I am.”

“It’s okay, Buck. Really.” Steve crossed his arms and headed to their private balcony. _Don’t make this worse than already is, Bucky._ “We were just. Drunk.”

“And single,” Bucky added, chuckling. “And it’s been a long time since either of us have properly hooked up with someone, so I guess we both needed a little relief.”

Steve arched one brow. “Like a casual thing between business associates.”

“Yeah,” Bucky laughed. “Like that. It was a spur-of-the-moment thing.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, darling.” Steve winked, playfully.

Bucky chuckled, then his whole face twitched in discomfort. “Oh, my _head,_ ” Bucky groaned. He started to massage his temples as if that action would give any real relief to his brain.

Natasha came back with some Advil for the pain, as promised, and with her an employee dragging a room-service cart full of healthy food for breakfast. The room service included Greek yogurt, a big variety of tropical fruits, cheeses, breads, black coffee, milk and other treats.

“Oh my God, _yes,_ coffee,” Steve almost moaned in delight, going straight to the bottle. “I need it so badly.”

“Take the coffee away,” Natasha snapped, giving directions to the employee.

“You’ve got to be fucking kiddin’ me,” Steve wined.

“Shut up, coffee is bad for hangovers. Now get dressed.”

When Steve and Bucky finally were able to get up and walk straight, they were dragged to a 3-hour-long-boat trip with a little break for diving in which both of the men did nothing but sleep with caps over their faces in the cabin of the rented boat.

The ladies were finally satisfied with their tan, though dealing with minor sunburn issues when they got back to the hotel. It wasn’t long before Peggy grabbed Steve by the arm and shoved him inside her suite, cornering Steve against the nearest wall.

“Did you think we were going to let James’ hickeys pass?” Peggy murmured, one hand resting on the wall next to Steve’s head and the other on her hip.

Angie crossed her arms. “What happened? Spit it out.”

Steve groaned in reply, rolling his eyes. “We were drunk. It’s nothing.”

“Steve, darling, your stupidity is aggravating,” Peggy replied seriously. “How can you guys hook up and say it’s nothing?”

“He said it was a spur-of-the-moment thing. That we’re both single and needed it.”

“And what did you say?” Angie demanded.

“I agreed.”

Angie gaped. “Is this some kind of fuck buddies agreement?”

“We didn’t have sex.” Steve considered for a moment what the woman had just said. _Not a bad idea in general, though._

“ _What_?” both women said in unison.

“We were drunk. And ended up doing things we regret. That’s it.” Steve looked at Angie.

“What was said drunk was thought sober.” Peggy arched one eyebrow, crossing her arms and stepping back.

“That’s bullshit,” Steve pointed out. “It won’t happen again.”

“Yeah, Steve, right.” Peggy rolled her eyes at that. “Keep telling yourself that.”

 

 **Friday, January 1** ** st ** **, 2016**

 

“FELIZ ANO NOVO!” The crowd yelled in unison when the fireworks started at midnight. Steve, Bucky, Peggy, Angie and Natasha were in the pool area, along with the hotel’s party crowd, which, they realized, were a very warm crowd. Everybody was embracing everybody when the clock hit midnight, and an array of couples were kissing.

“Happy new year, guys,” Steve said as he popped open the champagne bottle. “I hoped we were going to toast with Rebecca, but since she’s nowhere to be seen...”

Peggy poured champagne in her glass. “I’m pretty sure she is somewhere to be seen right across the pool.”

Steve curiously turned to the direction Peggy motioned. Becca was close to the pool’s edge, her arms tangled in a tall brown-haired boy while the two of them kissed. His hands were on her tiny waist, and Steve thought the scene was endearing. Becca deserved a midnight kiss.

Since the beginning of the day, Becca has probably been responsible for half of the excitement in the whole town, maybe because Bucky made a deal to let her drink champagne since it was a special occasion. She was also going on and on about a nice guy she had met at breakfast in the morning and hoped to find him at the party. And now they were pretty sure she did.

Natasha explained to them the local tradition about the meaning of the color of the outfit that you were wearing at midnight. Green stood for hope and luck, yellow was for fortune, blue for serenity, and so on, but, like Bucky and Steve, most people just wore white, for peace.

“Then why is Rebecca wearing red?” Bucky had questioned.

The hotel, which stood right across the street from the beach, was throwing its own private party, although the loudest crowd was gathered down the beach, packed with visitors and locals, watching fireworks painting the night’s sky with bright and shiny colors.

“Do you think he speaks English?” Steve asked out loud, looking at Rebecca.

“I don’t think what they’re doing needs translation.” Angie lifted her glass of champagne. “Cheers!”

“I’m not gonna stand here watching _someone_ have the New Year’s Eve of their lives,” Bucky murmured, finishing his glass of champagne and turning his back to Rebecca.

“What, are you gonna be that kind of jealous big brother right now?” Steve asked.

“Me? No, I’m heading to the buffet, have you tried that cheesy appetizer they were serving?”

Steve laughed. “I haven’t, can you bring me one?”

“Yes, baby.” Bucky winked. He was already walking straight to the buffet when Steve took hold of his arm and made Bucky turn. “Wha-”

Steve shortened the space between himself and Bucky and moved his mouth to Bucky’s ear. “Do you want to midnight kiss me?”

Bucky smiled briefly in return. He put his hand on the back of Steve’s neck, and his eyes darted to Steve’s mouth as if he was making sure Steve was going for it. Bucky pressed his lips on Steve’s softly. “Happy new year, Steve.”

 

Rebecca arrived a couple of minutes later in the company of the guy she was kissing previously. “Hey, did you guys save some champagne for me? I didn’t forget our deal,” she winked. “Everybody, this is Lucas.”

The brown-haired boy waved with a big smile. “Hello, and welcome to Brazil!”

“This is my brother Bucky and his boyfriend Steve,” she introduced as Lucas greeted everyone with a shake of hands. “These are Peggy, Angie and Natasha.”

“You’re Steve Rogers, right?” the boy said, a bit surprised while shaking hands with Steve. “I really like your movies.”

Rebecca cleared her throat theatrically. “And now you like his sister-in-law.”

“Thank you so much,” Steve said, chuckling. “Are you from Rio?”

“Not the capital, I live in the interior of the state,” Lucas replied.

“Would you know why people are throwing flowers in the sea?” Angie asked. “I noticed they have been doing this all day while I was at the beach.”

“It’s an old tradition to appease a popular Brazilian  goddess of the sea with flowers on New Year’s Eve,” the boy answered. “Some people believe it brings luck.”

“Oh, that’s cute. I didn’t mean to be judgmental, by the way.” Angie smiled to the boy. “Do you want champagne?”

“I don’t drink, but thank you.” Lucas turned to Rebecca. “Hey, Becca, do you want me to show you how we make New Year’s wishes in Brazil? It’s another old tradition, we jump seven waves at the beach.”

“Yeah, I just need to put on my bikini, it’s in my suite. Would you wait?”

“Of course!” Rebecca held Lucas by the hand and guided him to the lobby.

The private party went on with music, food, and a bunch of unknown people passing by and wishing a happy new year. Some even recognized Steve and asked for pictures. A few people got in the pool, which was lit with colorful lights. Among them, Natasha, Peggy and Angie, who tried to convince Bucky and Steve that the water was amazing, but they had had their fill of beaches and pools at that point they had to refuse.

“I think I’m heading upstairs,” Steve announced right after a yawn, the results of the day’s activities catching up with him.

“I’m going with you,” Bucky stated, quickly drinking the rest of his glass and placing the cup on the bar counter, ready to follow Steve.

“You seriously don’t have to, Buck. Stay and enjoy the party, I’m just a bit tired, is all,” Steve tried to argue.

“No, I want to go with you.” Bucky stood his ground. Then something must have passed through his mind, because he then added, “I wanna go to bed. I’m worn out, too.”

Steve reluctantly shook his head in agreement, still unsettled with the way it looked like if he hadn’t decided to leave the party Bucky would probably have enjoyed it some more.

They headed to the lobby in silence and stayed like that until an empty elevator arrived. Steve leaned against a metal bar below the mirror on the elevator’s back wall, his legs loosely crossed in front of him. Bucky leaned on the other end of the wall.

“It was a nice party,” Steve was the one to break the silence. “The ladies seem to be having a good time.”

“Did _you_ have a good time?” Bucky cracked a wry smile, provoking.

“All the _time_ I had was with you, so you should know the answer to that.” Steve grinned back, crossing his arms.

“I’m taking that as a yes,” Bucky closed the distance between them, “Considering the way you asked me for a kiss and all.”

Steve snorted, jokily offended, “I certainly did _not_.”

“You so did,” Bucky continued the provocation.

“I...” Steve was unable to finish his train of thought by Bucky’s mouth covering his own in a single movement, grabbing Steve’s neck roughly shoving his own body against Steve, trapping the blond in the middle of contrasting sensations: the warmth of Bucky’s torso versus the cold metal wall touching his spine.

Steve’s hands nestled in Bucky’s hair, tugging at its roots. That seemed to drive Bucky crazy, judging by the loud groan he let as soon as Steve did it. Bucky immediately moved his mouth to the crook of Steve’s neck, sucking harshly on the sensitive skin. It was Steve’s turn to let an embarrassingly loud moan escape his throat.

Bucky’s hands grabbed Steve’s belt, trying to undo it with only one hand while his mouth was back on Steve’s, his tongue tasting every bit of Steve as if Bucky has been starving for it.

The elevator door opened, indicating they arrived at their floor. Bucky walked a few steps backwards into the hallway, dragging Steve along, still connected at their mouths. They clumsily made it back to their suite door, and it was Steve’s turn to press Bucky against the wood.

Bucky’s hand fished a keycard out of his back pocket and the action brought Steve’s actions to a stop. “Buck, Buck.” Steve was breathing heavily, his eyes looking right into Bucky’s. Their conversation about spur-of-the-moment things on the morning after their _hook up_ was shadowing his mind like a dark, heavy cloud. “I don’t want us to end up doing things we regret because we’re drunk again.”

Bucky stood a couple of seconds in silence, also having problems controlling his breath. “I’m not drunk this time.” His features were locked in a serious expression when he answered, looking into Steve’s eyes with intensity. “I had two glasses of champagne and I’m fully aware of how much I’m not regretting this.”

He resumed opening the suite’s door with his right hand behind him, and used the other one to pull Steve in the room with himself. Steve quickly went up to Bucky, grabbing both sides of his face between his hands and kissing him hard. Bucky’s lips parted as they came into contact with Steve’s, snaking his tongue into Steve’s mouth.

Bucky shoved the door closed with Steve’s back against it, pressing him against the suite’s door, undressing his shirt in a rush and kissing with desire. Then Steve took over the game and pulled Bucky up, holding his thighs on each side of Steve’s waist. He carried Bucky to the nearest couch and sat down with the man straddling his lap, mapping each other’s bodies. Steve found Bucky’s nipples, getting moans in reply to the soft pinches; then he moved to the man’s stomach and waist with gentle caresses, until Steve reached Bucky’s pants button. His fingers struggled to get it open and Bucky bit Steve’s lower lip as he grinded on Steve’s lap.

An urgent “Can I touch you?” was the only thing Steve could get out.

 _“Please,”_ Bucky answered in a moan, gripping at the hair on Steve’s nape and pulling.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation of the words in Portuguese:  
> Pô, cara, foi mal!: Dude, my bad!  
> Você tá bem?: Are you okay?  
> Feliz ano novo!: Happy new year!


	11. TAKE ELEVEN

**Friday, January 1** ** st ** **, 2016**

 

As Steve opened his eyes in the morning, he felt as if his energy had been renewed. The curtains of the suite were still closed, but a few rays of sun ran through the tiny gaps. Steve stretched, not really wanting to get up, but the sudden realization of Bucky not being in bed with him changed his mind. He sat up and took a look around the empty bedroom.

“Bucky?” Steve called, unsure.

“Don’t worry, I didn’t run away.” Bucky’s voice arrived to Steve’s ears before the man entered the room. He rested his half-naked body against one of the columns, arms crossed. Bucky had just left the shower, the few drops of water on his skin combined with the way his damp hair fell into his face, sticking to his neck, gave his image a glowing appearance.   

Steve chuckled. “Hi.” Flashes of the night before colored Steve’s mind with a whirlwind of sensations. He resisted to the urge to close his eyes and appreciate every bit of it again. Bucky’s moans, mostly Steve’s name and also _more_ and _please_ and _fuck,_ were enough to drive Steve crazy even though he had just woken up.

He felt a bit of blush painting on his cheeks, even though he had no reason for it.  

“Do you-” his voice cracked with unsureness on the last word.

“Regret it? No.” Bucky completed Steve’s sentence for him. “Do you?”

Steve shook his head. “No,” he hesitated a couple more seconds before gathering the courage to ask Bucky the question that had been burning inside his brain since the second Steve woke up to an empty bed. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

Bucky stayed in place looking vaguely distracted, taking a couple of seconds to answer Steve’s question. “It depends. What do you wanna talk about?”

Steve didn’t want to come off as if he was the kind who, after a one-night stand, expected Bucky to pop the question. But he needed to make sure that the night didn’t mean anything to the other man either, so he ended up awkwardly announcing, “Casual fucks really aren’t my style.”  

Bucky smiled and walked forward. Steve adjusted himself on the bed, the white blanket the only thing covering his nakedness. “What is your type? Flowers and chocolate?”

“I’m a bit old-fashioned when it comes to relationships,” Steve stated playfully.

“I’ll remember to send you flowers with a thanks-for-the-sex card.” Bucky winked in reply.

“That’s cute, are you trying to impress me?”  

Bucky sat on the end of the bed, facing Steve. “I have to be a good fake-boyfriend, right?” The inviting grin plastered on his face spoke more than the actual words. He let his body fall on bed and crossed his arms behind his head.

“And what is _your_ type?” Steve asked.

“I _do_ like flowers, but, to be honest, I really don’t know. I haven’t been in a relationship,” Bucky answered looking right into Steve’s eyes.

“Never?”

“No.” Bucky laughed humorlessly. “It’s funny ‘cause my very first relationship is fake.”  

“That’s odd, you’re the one who’s been telling me what to do,” Steve pondered. “How do you know so much about pretending it?”

“Not pretending it.” Bucky shrugged.

Steve knew what Bucky meant by that, because Steve himself did the exact same thing. He didn’t pretend, not one bit. “And all of this time I thought you were a really good actor.”

Bucky laughed, “I am.” He pushed himself up on bed and rested his hands on the mattress.

“Well...” Steve directed his gaze to the mess of pillows and sheets beside him before looking back to Bucky, “That part’s not exactly in the agreement.”

Bucky genuinely laughed at that, before falling on bed again and childishly stating, “You’re boring.”

 _What the hell did he meant by that?_  

There it went again, with Bucky running from the main subject with an ambiguous answer. Steve was tired of that facade of a box full of secrets, mysteries and mixed messages.  

Steve laughed humorlessly. “You’re confusing,” he replied, meaning every word. Steve wrapped the sheet around his waist and got out of bed, looking for his clothes.

When Bucky noticed Steve’s movements, his tone suddenly changed to disbelief. “Are we really gonna argue over doing what we wanted?”

“It’s not that,” Steve said as he started getting dressed, not looking at Bucky while he continued, “I just don’t understand why every time it seems like we’re making progress, you give me ambiguous answers and make it look like it didn’t mean anything to you! Like...” He let the sheet fall down, already with his pants on. Steve waved his hands in confusion, still holding his shirt. “Like _we’re both single and needed it_! I mean, seriously? Needed it?” Steve stared at Bucky, who was seated on bed with a blank expression on his face. He put on his shirt. “You just said we _wanted_ it.”

Bucky shook his head. “You don’t understand. I’m trying to spare you.”

“From _what?_ ”  

“Me.” There was no sign of the lighthearted mood Bucky had when Steve first said hi.

“What’s so bad about you?” Steve continued. He couldn’t believe the bullshit that Bucky was trying to make him buy. Weak excuses, but why? For what reason?

“Trust me. You don’t wanna get involved with someone like me.” As Bucky finished, it felt like the subject ended there. He turned his head and laid on bed, searching for his phone on the nightstand.

Steve was done with that. If Bucky wasn’t going to tell him the truth about whatever he was hiding, he was done asking for it. After all, it could be just another excuse for not getting involved with Steve because Bucky didn’t want to. And Steve couldn’t argue with that, so he would rather leave the business unfinished. He shoved his hands in his pockets and headed to the suite’s door. “Maybe you’re right.”

Steve was feeling drained by the time he got to the breakfast lounge, where he knew he would find Peggy and Angie already having their morning coffee. Sure enough, Steve went straight to the table the couple were seated, dropping his weight on the chair in front of them.

“-but what about that new cactus lamp I showed you on that website last night? I think It’ll go great with our wooden dinner table,” Peggy were saying to Angie the moment Steve arrived, taking a sip from her cup.

“I think it’s mainstream, but very conceptual.” Angie had a serious expression. She put a finger on her chin, thinking about the subject. “We’re totally getting it,” then concluded. Angie only noticed Steve and his worn-out face after the waiter came to pick his order and he dismissed the request saying that he wasn’t hungry. “Someone’s moody,” Angie pointed out.

“Well, good morning, Rogers.” Peggy turned her attention to Steve, who still hadn’t said a word to them. “Not in a very good mood today, are we?” she assumed.

“Rough morning,” Steve shrugged.

“Trouble in paradise?” Angie folded her hands beneath her chin on the table, in expectation. “Please, do tell us all about it.”

Steve sighed and let his head fall on the table dramatically while he tried to figure where to start. It was so much to say and so hard to understand that he was already regretting even letting his face show his overwhelmed state. When Steve finally raised his face, both Angie and Peggy had their eyebrows arched.

“Remember I told you on Christmas that I thought Bucky was hiding something? Guess what. He said I wouldn’t like to get _involved_ with someone like him.” Right after the words came out of his mouth, Steve knew it wasn’t the best way to start that explanation of the facts beginning with last events.

“Why did he say that? How did you guys come to it?” Peggy questioned.

“Right after getting in the elevator and we started making out. One thing led to another, and, this morning, I was trying to figure out what we _were_ , but Bucky... always makes it sound like it’s nothing, like it’s just acting. I said he was being confusing, that I don’t understand his ambiguity and that’s what he told me.” While Steve was talking, Romanoff showed up at the table and took a seat for breakfast. Steve was so tired of it he didn’t bother to stop talking even if she was listening. “He said he was somehow trying to spare me from himself.”

“Okay. I see this is a big deal, but,” Angie started, straightening in her chair, “I think I missed something.”

“Are you guys together, but... not? Or what?” Peggy added, also confused. “Why do you talk like it’s a regular thing that he acts with ambiguity? We’re not aware of anything.”

“C’mon, Peggy,” Steve made a mocking face, “you knew something was happening, you guys were always teasing me about it.”  

“I don’t follow either,” Natasha said.

“Alright. Is Rebecca coming too so I can update everyone about the status of our fake-relationship?” He rolled his eyes and sighed.  

Steve decided to resume the story. How things between Bucky and him started. The closeness of sleeping together on the couch and how ridiculous their excuses had been to do so; their playfulness and teasing when no one was watching. How bad it got when Steve found lingerie – Rebecca’s, he later found out - in their apartment, and about getting jealous of Clint.  

He told them about the Halloween event, his slip and how he knew he was already screwed by then. The questions game Steve remembered all too well what Bucky asked and what followed that at the hotel pool. When Steve finally finished, he was hungry and ordered a hearty breakfast. Talking about what was troubling him started as a challenge, but in the end felt like getting a weight off of his shoulders.

“You finally got laid!” Angie exclaimed once Steve was done.

“You really only got that from all of it? I’m dealing with a crisis here.” He rolled his eyes.

“You like him,” Peggy stated, looking at Steve with her face completely serious. “You really do.”

Peggy was one of the few people who really _knew_ Steve. He could never hide something so big from her. But that fact was not the point. “Yeah, I like him. Whatever.”

“At long last you’re acting like a couple,” Natasha said as if she was extremely satisfied with her conclusion.

“And of what good is it? We’re not even a real couple, because he doesn’t want to get too involved. He’s trying to _spare_ me,” Steve laughed at his own irony.

Peggy placed her hand of top of Steve’s, which was holding the croissant Steve was about to take a bite of. “You’re either too blind, or you’re playing dumb, Steve. Because it’s obvious he _does_ want to get involved.”

“No, Peggy. He’s probably just enjoying the moment because at the end of the day he doesn’t really need to get committed to anything.”

“I don’t think James is like that,” Angie cut in.

“Why?” Steve asked back, already preparing the arguments to prove his point once again.

But to his surprise, Angie replied, “He seems romantic. And very attached to you, if I may say so,” which was not the answer he was expecting. And it provoked his curiosity.

“Why would you say that?”

“He got all jealous when that Brazilian guy was teaching you how to play volleyball.”

Steve rolled his eyes at that. “I saw that, I’m not dumb,” Steve looked at Peggy as he said the word, “but these are the mixed messages I’m talking about.”

“How many positive messages do you need?” Peggy asked with a daring glare. Steve saw that as a joke, and replied at it with sarcasm.

“Give me three.”

“When you danced together on Christmas, he was clearly devoted to you. No media, no pictures. Just you and him.” Peggy raised a finger, as if actually counting. “He talks about you with enthusiasm and looks at you with tenderness when he thinks no one is watching. Angie and I are, though. We’re always watching for you.” She raised the second finger, and then the third, but closed her hand in a fist and shook her head. “He cares so much about you. It’s not like he’s fulfilling a task, it’s more than that. And it’s not just desire either.”

It was like everybody was united to praise Bucky and tell Steve how incredibly stupid he was.

The things they were saying to him were the kind that Steve _wanted_ to believe. It was the things he wanted to _hear_. They were also the kind of thing that would build up his expectations, but Steve was already far too full of doubts and _what ifs_ that were not leading him anywhere.

Steve knew they had a point, but they didn’t get it... _Right?_ They had a perfect relationship, where they both talked things through and understood each other’s points of view. He didn’t have it with Bucky. Hell, he didn’t even have a _real_ relationship, to start with.

“And what about you? Have anything to add?” He sarcastically turned to Natasha, who hadn’t yet pronounced herself.

“I do, in fact. I noticed you both let your emotions overwhelm you rather than work out your problems gradually, and it clearly affects your communication,” Natasha analyzed, assuming her figure as their professional couple adviser. “If you actually moved yourself from the center of the universe, you’d realize you’re missing many points in here. One of them is that you’re failing to see his point of view.”

“And which point of view is that?” Steve asked, playing with the little spoon on his coffee cup. He had lost all interest in his food at that point.

“That maybe James was giving you mixed messages for the same reason you were avoiding showing your feelings,” Natasha continued like it was the most obvious explanation. She looked as if Steve’s obliviousness towards the subject was almost... annoying. “Have you ever thought about how _your_ avoidance felt to him? Or, as you like to put it, mixed fucking messages? And do you ever think for a second that maybe you’re not the only problem in his life? “

“Are you implying that I can’t see past my own nose?” It’s not that Steve was missing the point again. In fact, he was so shocked about the realization of not being empathic enough about Bucky that he couldn’t think of anything to say. He was mad at himself.

“That’s exactly what I’m _saying_ ,” Natasha replied with arched brows, lowering her chin a little with audacity.

Steve didn’t take himself as the selfish type, but perhaps Romanoff had a point. All this time, Steve focused on his own side and never once thought about putting himself in Bucky’s shoes. And, come to think of it, the brunet had been acting weirdly, always tiptoeing personal subjects when it came to that point. Steve thought it was Bucky’s personality, but maybe it was something bigger.

If Natasha’s plan was to make Steve feel like a piece of narcissist shit she accomplished her mission perfectly.

Steve got up abruptly. “I’m going for a walk.” He was certain he didn’t sound selfish this time, because his face showed perfectly how hurt and embarrassed he was.

He called one of the bodyguards to have as his companion, but on his way to the lobby’s entrance, a person Steve recognized all too well passed by him without looking his way.

“Rumlow?” Steve called out the man, who was already directing himself to the elevator’s area. “I thought you were staying at the other hotel.”

“Rogers, hi.” Rumlow turned to him, his face unreadable. He seemed tense. “Yeah, I am. But I. I have a personal thing... Need to take a couple of shots for my portfolio, you know.”

“Oh, right.” Steve nodded and frowned. “But this is guests-only area, who gave you permission?”

“Romanoff. Are you leaving?”

“Yeah, I need to take a walk. Clear my mind for a bit.”

“Okay, so, see you soon!” The photographer gave a few steps away from Steve with a brief smile, waving one hand.

That was odd, but then again, everything about that man was. Steve didn’t like the strange vibes he got around the photographer Pierce had chosen for them, but Pierce himself gave Steve some bad vibes.

 

ATREVIDA _: Steve Rogers gives autographs and takes pictures with fans in Ipanema, Rio de Janeiro._

 

It turned out walking wasn’t as relaxing as Steve expected it to be. He had to sign some autographs for fans he encountered on his way, and every now and then someone would give those deafening high-pitched squeaks when they recognized him, asking for photos and hugs. Steve loved his fans, but the fuss they brought with them wasn’t helping him clear his mind at all.

The rare moments he was left alone, Steve tried to digest what Natasha had said about his behavior over breakfast.  

Even if Steve wanted to understand Bucky’s personal problems, Bucky was the one who was shutting him out. Would it be any good if Steve actually turned those mixed messages he was giving into clear ones? Bucky had already made up his mind about not being something Steve would want in his life.

He didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t just simply shut his feelings down, he had tried that once before. If only Steve knew what Bucky wanted from him.

Steve found himself walking down a narrow street that no longer faced the beach, his only point of reference. The bodyguard at his side probably had no idea where they were either, so Steve tried to retrace his steps. As he turned around, the window of a flower shop caught his attention.

As he looked at the flowers arrangements, Steve realized he was not entirely wrong about one thing. Bucky _did_ want to enjoy the moment. Angie and Peggy might be right about him being attached to Steve in certain ways, but for whatever reasons that kept him from getting truly involved with Steve, Bucky still wanted to enjoy those moments.  

“Are we really gonna argue over doing what we wanted?” Steve repeated with a low voice.

 _Fuck it._ He would go with the flow. He would just enjoy the moments if that was what Bucky wanted. If things turned out positively, good. If it ended with Steve being fucked over and an entirely mess, then he would deal with it. He could only try and hope for the first option. _I’ll do it. Whatever you’re up for, I’ll just do it._

“I beg your pardon, sir?” the bodyguard asked.

Steve shook his head. “I’m just talking to myself.”

It was a stupid idea, but it was the only one Steve had to make it better.  

Also, flowers were cliché. Especially red roses and white lilies.  

Steve and the bodyguard returned to the hotel, and the closer they got to the building, the dumber Steve felt. It was like the whole city stopped to watch him carry a bouquet by the beach, the cheesiest shit ever. His bodyguard might as well be playing the guitar while Steve serenaded Bucky.

Steve went straight to Natasha’s suite.  

The woman opened the door and, when she spotted the bouquet on Steve’s hand, cracked a smile before teasing, “I hope these aren’t for me,”

“Am I being too forward?” Steve sounded doubtful.

“It depends. Did you think about what I told you?” Natasha arched one of her brows at him, leaning against the opened door.

“Yes. You told me what my problem was, but you didn’t give me a solution,” Steve pointed out, sighing, “I can’t force Bucky to tell me the truth, and at the same time, I can’t keep hoping we’ll be fine together someday.”

“Right.” Natasha nodded.

“Although I’ve been trying to resist, and I have plenty reasons to, I can’t avoid the fact that I still want him,” Steve continued. “So I decided I don’t give a fuck. I’m not giving up.”

“On him,” Natasha clarified.

“On Bucky,” he agreed. “I’ll be whatever he needs me to be.”

Natasha stared at Steve as if she was analyzing what he just said. He was still waiting for her to crack out laughing and tell him how ridiculous he sounded, but it didn’t happen. Natasha was taking him seriously, which meant that, for the first time, he was doing something she judged to be right. “What if he needs you to leave him?”

Her question caught him by surprise. Steve didn’t expect her to ask that, but then, it seemed logical. Natasha was somehow aware of Steve’s fears and she wanted to test him.

“I’ll do it.” He didn’t know how he would manage to do it. He would just try his best if, or when, the time came.

“I’m glad you’ve come to this conclusion. James needs this version of you. For now, at least.” Natasha seemed satisfied with Steve’s words. Giving him a genuine and sympathetic smile, she added, “And by the way, answering your question. No, you’re not being too forward.”

Steve felt a weight being lifted off his shoulders. At least he now had Natasha on his side.  

He was about to go back to their room but, on his way out, Steve remembered to ask Natasha about something that had been puzzling him since earlier, “Is the photographer done?”

“What photographer?” Natasha replied, seeming genuinely confused by Steve’s question.

“Rumlow. You authorized him in.”

“I didn’t. I haven’t talked to Rumlow today, it’s his day off,” Natasha answered.

“But he went upstairs to-” Steve cut his statement before finishing it, shaking his head trying to come up with a reasonable answer.”Who authorized him?” he asked looking back at her.

“What? Steve!” Natasha’s voice reverberated on the hallway, but Steve had already rushed out without another word.  

He pressed the button of the elevator a few times, but it was taking too long to arrive, so Steve headed to the staircase. Third, fourth, fifth floor. He tried not to look like he was running, but the truth is that Steve didn’t like Rumlow. The man always gave him a bad feeling and had the look of someone who was hiding something.

Steve walked down his floor’s hallway with quick steps, stopping abruptly at the suite’s door.  

_“You know what he’s capable of. Don’t wanna mess up your life right now, do you?”_

_“No.”_

_“Then you know what to do. You’ve done it before, sweetie. It’s just for a little bit-”_

Steve opened the door so forcefully that it slammed against the wall, making a loud thud.

He didn’t know how, but he knew Rumlow was there, and the scene Steve came across just made him sick to his stomach. Rumlow had Bucky cornered against the wall, one hand beside Bucky’s head on the wall, and the other on his own belt. Bucky was avoiding looking at him, evidently uncomfortable.

“What’s happening in here?” Steve thundered, dropping the bouquet on the nearest table. He couldn’t keep his voice down.

Bucky and Rumlow turned at Steve at the same time. Bucky looked like he was horrified by Steve’s presence, and Rumlow seemed as if had just been caught in the middle of doing something wrong, which, Steve was sure by then, it truly was.

“Nothing. I was just leaving.” Rumlow raised both hands in peace, but he shoved them in his pockets right after. He made a move as if he was about to pass by Steve and leave, but Steve stepped in front of him, blocking his way.

“You don’t get to leave until you tell me what the fuck were you planning to do before I came in.”

Rumlow raised both eyebrows in fake surprise. “Stay out of this, Cap. You’re only a hero on the big screen, this is none of your business.”

In a single movement, Steve grabbed him by the collar, pulling him close. “What. The. Fuck. Are you doing in here, Rumlow?” Steve said slowly.

“Alright, sugar. Why don’t you ask your buddy right there?” Rumlow pointed his thumb at behind him, where Bucky stood quietly. “I bet he has some nice things to tell you.”

Out of reflex, Steve looked at Bucky. He knew Bucky had secrets, but what the hell did that man have to do with it? Was it possible that a fucking photographer knew Bucky better than Steve? Who was this guy?  

Bucky had that blank expression on his face once again, except that this time it seemed like he was also slightly guilty. _But why?_ Steve felt as if he was somehow behind a lot of things.

“Bucky?” he asked, hopeful.

Bucky closed his eyes for a moment. “Don’t, Steve.”

“Won’t you tell him, _Bucky_?” Rumlow questioned, a mocking smile growing on his face. “Tell him the things you’ve done. Tell him how you got _here_.”

Steve gritted his teeth, shaking Rumlow by his collar. “He’s here with me because he’s my boyfriend!”

Rumlow’s smile grew wider. “Don’t fool yourself with that, Rogers. James Barnes is here because he needs fame, he needs to get out of the hole he got himself into when he decided to make those videos.”

“What videos? What the hell are you talking about?” Steve furred his brow, letting his curiosity slip. It was clear by then Rumlow knew something about Bucky that Steve didn’t.

“Stop it, Rumlow,” Bucky’s voice was urgent, he was on the verge of panicking.

“Don’t you watch porn, Rogers?” Rumlow asked.

That question made Steve drop Rumlow’s collar. He looked at the man in confusion, afraid of what realization he was about to have.  

Rumlow pulled his phone out of his pants pocket and unlocked the screen, handing it to Steve after a moment. A video started playing.

“Sorry for the bad quality,” Rumlow pointed out while stepping back. He still had the same mocking, disgusting smile on his face, which was only making Steve angrier. As the video went on, Steve could see the person recording getting close to where two guys were naked on top of a bed, being recorded by another cameraman.  

A much younger Bucky was one of them, his figure almost covered entirely by the other man’s body on top of him. Bucky was thinner, his hair was short, but Steve would recognize those features anywhere by now. When the older man turned Bucky on his back, Steve could see Bucky’s arm tattoo, the now faded red star had a vibrant ink as if it was new. Bucky’s face displayed a contorted expression, much more of hurt than pleasure.

“I wasn’t supposed to be recording this while they were acting, you know,” Rumlow started talking again while Steve watched. “I was just an amateur photographer when they invited me to the backstage of the Hydra productions. This one is called ‘Taking the Angel’s ass virginity’. I believe it was his first, right, James?”

Steve’s body froze. It was like his mind lost all the control it had on his motions and he couldn’t believe the words that came out of Rumlow’s mouth. Steve’s gaze was locked on Bucky, desperately searching traces for confirmation that Rumlow was lying. That this accusation wasn’t true. But Bucky looked disturbed, avoiding looking into Steve’s eyes, his own filling with wetness. He looked humiliated.  

Steve darted his eyes away from the screen, his breath shaken. He didn’t know what to do, what to say. He couldn’t look at Bucky again. All Steve knew what that he couldn’t take another second watching that. It was torture.

“Why are you showing me this? What do you want?” he demanded, hard gaze on Rumlow once again. Steve’s voice was filled with bitterness.

“You know, Rogers. I wasn’t planning for you to interrupt us, we were dealing fine, right, _Bucky?_ ” Rumlow shoved his phone on his pocket. _“_ So, if you just get out of my way, I’m not gonna screw up your pal’s life by posting the videos on my Twitter account. I bet that ass could go viral, don’t you think?”

It was all clear. Rumlow had been blackmailing Bucky with his past. And with a past like that, it was obvious why Bucky kept it so secret.That kind of blackmail could do serious damage to Bucky’s life, so Steve couldn’t afford being an idiot at that moment. He would do anything Rumlow asked in return for the safety and secrecy of the video.

But Steve was also filled with anger. The feeling was giving him a strong headache and his body was hot, trembling. Steve had to close both hands in fists to try to maintain control.

“Is it money that you want?” Steve asked again through gritted teeth.  

“What I want only he can give me.” Rumlow turned to Bucky and took a step toward him. He reached for Bucky’s face and the move made Bucky to flinch. Steve wanted to yell _don’t touch him,_ but his mouth was dry and his voice was gone. All he could do was watch Rumlow touch Bucky’s mouth and chin with his fingers, until Bucky slapped at that with his hand. Rumlow smiled dirtily. Steve was at his limit. “I’ve been obsessing over that sinful mouth of his since I saw all the dirty things he can do with it.”

Before Steve came back to his senses, he had already punched Rumlow on the side of his face, knocking him down. Rumlow had almost no time to realize what was happening before Steve had gripped at his shirt and dragged him away from Bucky.

Steve ripped the camera bag from Rumlow’s neck and used all his strength to throw it on the other side of the room. He heard the loud crack of something breaking.

The photographer grabbed Steve’s wrist with one hand and tried to block another punch with the other, but Steve was quicker and hit the man’s face again, and again, and again. Already sporting a black eye and a split lip, a trickle of blood ran out of his mouth which made Steve notice how aggressive he was being. Steve looked at his fist, dirtied with blood and knuckles split, and realized how much his whole body was trembling with anger. He was out of control.  

“Steve, stop!” Bucky’s voice became louder than the ringing in his ears and Steve realized Bucky had been calling his name for a while. “It’s enough!”

Bucky’s hand was pulling Steve away from Rumlow, but he could barely feel it. Steve let go of Rumlow and stepped back.

“If you wanna mess with someone, mess with me,” Steve spit.

Rumlow cleaned his face with the sleeve of his shirt and got up. He staggered to the spot where his camera landed and picked it up, looking at the damage. “You’re gonna pay for this, Rogers. And this time your _boyfriend’s_ specialties won’t cover it.”

“You have my number. I’d be satisfied to settle accounts with you,” Steve said daringly, “But don’t you ever get near Bucky again, or I’ll finish you.”

The second the front door closed behind Rumlow, Steve hurried to Bucky, cupping his face in both hands, worry written his expression. “You alright?”

“Steve-” Bucky started, avoiding Steve’s touch.

“Did he hurt you? I swear, I’ll kill that bastard if he did-” Steve started to look over Bucky, searching for any sign of injury.

“Steve, I’m fine,” Bucky tried again, the words coming out with more intensity this time around. “I’m not hurt. I don’t need you to fight my battles for me.”

Steve’s hands fell from Bucky’s face. The adrenaline of the fight, along with the anger that drove Steve into it in the first place, was still alive in his blood. But now, so was rejection. Bucky didn’t want his help, but Steve desperately wanted to do something. _Anything_.

Bucky led Steve to the couch and made him sit. Steve curved his upper body closer to his knees while his hands covered his head, sighing. He hated to feel so powerless.

He didn’t see Bucky moving, but he heard his steps walking away. The minibar’s door opened and closed, and a moment later, Bucky was kneeling in front of Steve, gently holding Steve’s hands and pulling them slowly from his face.

“I’m sorry,” Bucky breathed, placing a small pack of ice on top of the knuckles of Steve’s right hand. Steve locked his gaze on Bucky’s. “I didn’t mean to be an ass. It’s just... It’s fucking complicated,” he continued, his voice cracking at the last word. Steve could see how broken Bucky felt. It was as if he didn’t know where they stood at that point. Steve didn’t, either. The stupid fight they had earlier seemed trivial to Steve after all that.

He was still angry. Angry at Rumlow for blackmailing Bucky, angry at Bucky for hiding all those threats he had to endure from him, and angry at himself for being so fucking helpless all this time. Of course, there was no way Steve would know that, but he couldn’t help feeling so bad.  

“I know how bloody complicated it is!” Steve shouted, frustrated. “I just hit the fucker who blackmailed you with a video of you fucking another man. A video I had to watch.”

Bucky stopped taking care of Steve’s bruised knuckles. He stood up, taking a step away from the couch. He held his chin up in a defensive position.  

“I’m not ashamed of what I’ve done. I did it for Rebecca. We had no money, I was young and no job would take me. I was desperate and the opportunity seemed... easy. But that’s part of my past. Of who I am. I told you, you don’t want someone like me around. I’m damaged goods, Steve, way past any chance of repair. I-” Bucky’s voice cracked, and he swallowed a lump in his throat before resuming, “The only thing I fear is whose hands this could end up in. I could lose Becca’s guardianship over this, it can’t get out in the media. I would lose her, I can’t lose her, Steve, I can’t.” Bucky shook his head continuously, almost in a trance, with the possibility of his words coming true.  

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to sound like I was judging you, Buck,” Steve said with his tone low. He couldn’t afford being an idiot with Bucky now. “I would never do that.”

“You would and you will. I told you I’m a mess. My life is a mess and, surprise, you’re not even half way there,” Bucky smiled weakly, darting his eyes away.

“I would gladly be a part of your mess if you’d let me.” Steve stood up in one single movement and went straight to Bucky. At another time he would questioned what Bucky was still hiding, but Steve was way past this. He wouldn’t force Bucky to say anything. “You’re so brave and strong for taking care of your sister all of this time alone. What you had to do to manage may be part of your past, but it doesn’t define your future. I don’t care about what Rumlow said.”

“It gets worse,” Bucky continued. He closed his eyes and Steve noticed how his body started shaking. “What you watched was just... the beginning. I agreed to do that. But after the first ones, they started paying more to people who would do to me things that I didn’t want. I tried to get out, but they threatened me and told me I couldn’t get out because I had signed a contract.” As Bucky started crying, Steve held the man tight in his arms, gently stroking his hair. Bucky gripped at Steve’s back, as if remembering was too painful to bear. “I kept going because I couldn’t let Becca starve. She doesn’t know any of that, that’s why I kept her away from my work all of these years.”

“Buck, hey. Bucky, it’s fine,” Steve loosened his grip to cup Bucky’s face once again. He looked into his eyes. “Everything’s fine now.”

“No, it’s not.” Bucky shook his head. “There’s more, Steve. Rumlow has the other videos. He could use them.”

“He’s not going to do anything, I promise,” Steve mumbled. “Nobody’s gonna take her from you. You’re fine, Buck, you two are fine. Nobody’s going to touch her, or you. Never again,” Steve repeated it to the other man like a mantra. And he meant it. “I’ll make sure of it.”

Gradually, Steve could feel Bucky calming down. His breath coming more slowly, his grip on the back of Steve’s shirt getting looser. Steve never once stopped stroking his hair.  

“What’s that?” Bucky said after a moment, raising his head from the crook of Steve’s neck.

Bucky was already loosening the hug when Steve turned to look at what Bucky was referring to, and when he realized what it was, his face colored with a bit of pink. The bouquet Steve had bought on his way back from the beach now lay forgotten on a table near the entrance.  

“Oh, it’s nothing,” Steve started, walking the short distance and picking it up. He turned back to Bucky’s direction. “It’s just... It was a stupid idea,” _although it felt so right at the moment_.  

“You bought me flowers?” Bucky asked, his voice soft and a tiny smile painting his lips.

“Yeah,” Steve admitted, scratching the back of his head with his free hand. “Dumb move, right?” He laughed and handled it to Bucky.

Bucky himself chuckled weakly. “That’s very sweet, Steve.” He met Steve’s eyes, his face a little crooked trying to hide the smile. “But why did you buy it?”

Steve’s smile faded. “What?”

“This morning I said you wouldn’t want to get involved with me, and flowers... seem very involved.” Bucky smiled softly.

“A lot of things changed since this morning,” Steve pointed out.

“You didn’t know it before.”

“It’s true,” Steve stepped forward and raised one hand to Bucky’s waist, “And it’s also true that I talked to Natasha and realized how selfish I was being. I’m sorry for not seeing your problems and I’m sorry for demanding from you a type of commitment you couldn’t give me. You said we were doing what we wanted, so if it’s fine with you as it is, it’s fine with me.” Steve cupped Bucky’s face with the other hand, his eyes analyzing every single feature, and thinking just how madly in love he was about him. But say it out loud at that moment would go against everything he promised himself he would do. “I am gonna do whatever you need me to.”

Steve locked lips with Bucky, all tenderness. He could only hope that Bucky was able to feel all the caring and _love_  Steve carried for him after all those months of non-stopping fighting and teasing. The friendship turned into something much bigger. Steve knew, right there, how lost in passion he was, with no turning back. It was definitely not the way Steve had imagined finding someone he liked that much, but it was certainly everything he wanted.

The kiss ended with them resting their foreheads together.

Bucky’s smiled dropped. “I need to get an early flight to New York. I need to talk to Pierce, after everything that happened with Rumlow.”

“It can wait,” Steve assured him.

“It can’t.”

Steve knew Bucky was right, they couldn’t wait for Rumlow to make the first move. It was too much of a risk. But he didn’t want their trip to end in such a dramatic way. It was all going so well until that moment, and now it was over.

Steve grabbed Bucky’s neck and kissed him without warning, trying to express through his actions all the mixed feelings consuming him. Bucky responded immediately, grabbing Steve just as tightly, hunger driving both of them.

 

Steve and Bucky caught and early flight to New York, leaving Becca, Peggy, Angie, and Natasha in Brazil with the excuse of an urgent meeting, which was not entirely a lie. Natasha knew the whole truth. She also knew about Bucky’s past long before Steve. According to Bucky, Natasha has always been more than a couple adviser to him.

The ladies’ flight was booked for the following day, so it wasn’t much of a problem to leave them enjoying one more day of sun while Bucky ran to protect his public image.

It was almost midnight when they arrived and Steve tried to convince Bucky of meeting Pierce in the next day, but Bucky seemed unsettled. He left his luggage in the living room and hurried for his car keys.

“Do you really think this is necessary?” Steve asked, curious. “It’s too late for you to meet Pierce. It can wait until tomorrow morning, you need to rest.”

“I can’t waste time, Steve.” Bucky rushed for the door.  

“Do you at least want me to go with you?” Steve sighed, knowing too well we wouldn’t win that fight.

“No.” Bucky looked at Steve with a confused expression for a second, then he shook his head. “It’s going to be fast, don’t worry.”

“You sure?”

“Promise I’ll be back soon.”

Steve wasn’t really comfortable with something in that answer, but he nodded and Bucky left.

While Bucky was gone, Steve tried his best to keep himself occupied. He cleaned the apartment furniture, washed the dirty clothes from their trip and even started a new sketch project.  

After around thirty minutes after Bucky had left, Steve’s phone beeped with messages.

 

BUCKY: There’s something I didn’t tell you

BUCKY: Pierce has been my agent since I was young

BUCKY: He was the one who threatened me when I tried to leave porn and I don’t think things are going to end well tonight. It sure didn’t back then

BUCKY: Pierce has been controlling me for too long

BUCKY: And I’ll put an end to this today

BUCKY: I’m sorry, Steve


	12. TAKE TWELVE

**Saturday, January, 2** ** nd ** **, 2016**

 

It was three in the morning. Steve’s hands were still shaking, but his grip on the steering wheel only grew tighter. He had called Bucky multiple times after he received the texts, but it all went up to voicemail. For a long time, Steve freaked out due to having no one to call that could possibly know where Bucky was, with Natasha and Rebecca still in another hemisphere.  

When Bucky's first sign of life to Steve was a single message saying “ _Can you pick me up at the police station?_ ”, Steve’s knees went weak. Thoughts were running through his mind with all the possibilities of how things ended up at the police station. A moment later, he was heading to get Bucky.

Steve arrived at the police station, which was surrounded by a crowd of photographers. He had a hard time parking and it was making him even more nervous. What was supposed to be a short walk from the parking lot to the front door became long and tortuous path, covering his face and trying to avoid the camera flashes.  

Once inside the building, Steve found Bucky sitting on one of the chairs at the farthest side of the room, his head lowered with his focus on the phone on his hands. His hair was covering most of his face.  

Steve rushed to him, but stopped short as he realized Bucky’s state. Bucky’s lips were cut and swollen, he had a black eye and bruises around his cheeks. Steve was suddenly on the verge of a break down. He caught Bucky’s face between his hands with care.

“Christ, Bucky, what happened to you?” Steve asked worriedly as his fingers traced through Bucky’s face and hair. Bucky closed his eyes and leaned his face against Steve’s hands.

“It’s over, Steve,” he said. “The contract is over. I’m finally free from him.”

“Did Pierce do this? Did he hurt you?” Steve brushed Bucky’s hair away from his face.

Bucky nodded.

“Why? Where’s that bastard?”

“There’s so much I haven’t told you, Steve, but right now just take me home,” Bucky pleaded tiredly. “Please, take me home before he’s released. He has tons of lawyers and I have none, because all of my lawyers were his in the first place, I’m fucking alone on this, I have no idea of what he’s going to do. I’m tired and sore and...”

“You’re _not_ alone.” Steve pulled Bucky, letting him bury his face on Steve’s chest and tangling his fingers in Bucky’s hair. “I know someone and he’s going to help you on whatever you need. I’ll call him in the morning, but now I’m taking care of you. Do you need medical assistance? Do you want me to take you to the hospital or call a doctor?”

“No, I’m fine” Bucky murmured, shaking his head slightly. “I just want a bed. Our bed.”

Steve’s chest was filled with warmth as he brought the man as close as possible to his own body. Bucky was not entirely fine, but at least he was in Steve’s arms once again, and Steve could feel again the security of being able to help and protect. “Jesus, you left me so fucking worried.”

Steve led Bucky to the car with the help of a few cops, his right arm embracing Bucky’s side all the way. Bucky had his sweatshirt’s hood on, covering the majority of his face from the paparazzi’s cameras. They managed to get in the car without much fuzz, hurriedly turning on the engine and leaving the parking lot.

Bucky was shrunken on the passenger’s seat, looking at the window with a tired expression. Steve was hurt by that fragile view of him. He had no idea of what to do to make Bucky better, and maybe there was nothing he could do, really.

“The two favors you owed me from helping you out with Becca during Christmas Eve. I still have one left,” Steve said.  

It took Bucky a couple of seconds to catch on what Steve meant, but once he did, Bucky sighed softly, before agreeing, “Ask away.”

“Tell me everything, Buck.” It wasn’t a question.

A short silence filled the small environment, the only sounds being from the street’s movement outside the car.

“He’s hurt me more than once,” Bucky stated, his voice a bit shaken. Steve could see how hard that was for him, but he couldn’t bring Bucky to stop at that point. He needed to know, so he could be there for Bucky when he needed Steve. Bucky took a deep breath before going on, “I can’t remember how it started, but one day I just realized it was part of having him as an agent. It was a condition for him not to report me to the DHS, so I’d endure everything because he had me in his hands. He had Rebecca.”

Another short period of silence. Bucky breathed in and out, trying to stabilize it. Steve’s jaw was clenched so hard it hurt.  

“He couldn’t fire me because I was a source of money, but he could do whatever he pleased when he was annoyed that I did something wrong,” Bucky continued, this time with his eyes shut tightly. “Then, as expected, he wasn’t happy knowing that Rumlow could try to blackmail him, too, at any moment because of the videos. But once I told him I was done, he really took it out on me. So, I reported the assault and he was arrested. I’ve never seen Pierce so angry.”

“If he gets out, what do you think he’ll do?” Steve asked.

“ _When_ he gets out, he can’t do anything to Rebecca anymore. I am of legal age and I can provide for her as her guardian. But he’ll try something against me, I don’t know what, though. I’m ready to face the consequences, if it’s what it takes to have a bit of freedom,” Bucky said. “He could ruin my career, though. Release my old videos. It’s not technically my property and he had my image rights.”

“Most celebrities don’t have their careers ruined because of pornographic videos,” Steve added.

“Yeah, let’s not count on that.” Bucky straightened his spine. “Pierce’s a disgusting man. He’s always trying to exploit anyone he can, taking advantage of everything. He was the one who came up with the idea of this contract.”

“That’s why you hated me in the beginning?” Steve asked.

“I thought you knew since you benefited from it too.” Bucky shrugged. “Don’t take it personally, but I’ve never wanted to do this. I never wanted to use you to get famous. I would never do something like that.” He locked eyes with Steve to prove his point.

“I know you wouldn’t. I know you now,” Steve reassured him, meaning it. Bucky was one of the greatest people he ever met.

They were already near their block when Steve got the courage to ask something that had bothered him in the past. “And Clint?” Steve blurted out the question.

“What about Clint?” Bucky arched an eyebrow.

“Did you meet him at one of your previous jobs?” Steve darted his attention to Bucky, before turning back to the road.

“You mean doing porn? Yeah, I did.”

“Did you guys...?” Steve was unable to look at Bucky again, his focus never leaving the road ahead of them.

“Do you really wanna know?” Bucky asked, a hint of disbelief on his tone.

“I guess I don’t,” Steve concluded, even though Bucky’s rhetorical question was enough for him as an answer.

Bucky hesitated before asking, his voice suddenly small, “Does it make you like me less?”

“There’s nothing in this world that could make me like you less,” Steve stated immediately. Nothing could take away the fondness and admiration Bucky managed to gather from Steve during their time together. He could never regret meeting him, getting to know him.

Falling in love with him.

They arrived home shortly. Once out of the car and up the elevator, Bucky was the one to close the apartment door, tiredly pushing it to with his body, “Becca’s arriving tomorrow. I don’t know how I’m going to keep all of this from her,” he confessed.

“I don’t think you can. It’s too much, Bucky.” Steve weakly smiled at him, “She’s a nearly grown, you’ll end up having to tell her certain things and I’m sure she’ll be able to understand.” He placed his right hand on Bucky’s shoulder, gently squeezing it in a form of assurance. “Don’t underestimate your sister, you raised her yourself. She has a great admiration for you.”  

Bucky nodded and smiled at Steve’s effort to cheer him up, before heading to their bathroom, with Steve behind him. He turned on the water of the bathtub and slowly started to undress, undoing his belt and taking off his shirt. Without its cover, Steve was able to see the purple bruises that spread over different spots of Bucky’s torso.

Steve lightly brushed his fingers on one particularly big bruise, occupying a large spot of Bucky’s back. Bucky flinched so hard at Steve’s touch, Steve felt as if _he_ was the one hurting him and printing Bucky’s skin in result.

Steve couldn’t take it anymore. “Why didn’t you tell me before going to meet him? You’re hurt, we could’ve avoid this.”

“Because you’re trying to be my hero, Steve, and that’s not how things happen.” Bucky sighed, eyes darting open. He turned his head in Steve’s direction. Bucky’s tone was tender, but serious, “I swear, I love how you stood up for me with Rumlow, but sometimes I have to win or lose my own battles.”

Steve knew Bucky was right. Even if he wanted to, he could never one hundred percent protect those he loved. Bucky was his own person, he should and could know how to take care of himself.

But that didn’t stop Steve from caring.

“I just want to help you,” he admitted, his eyes analyzing every part of Bucky’s arms and torso. It was never Steve’s intention to make Bucky feel like he was trying to control him in any sort of way. He just wanted to be _there_ for Bucky, at any cost.

“And I appreciate your help, but I’ve been handling this my whole life.” He said with tenderness in his voice, but Bucky’s eyes were set in determination. “I can save myself.”

Bucky cupped Steve’s face with one hand, caringly. He gave Steve a light kiss on the forehead and got back to taking off his clothes.

“Let me do the little I can, then,” Steve stated. He couldn’t be the hero for Bucky, because Bucky had to save himself, but he could be at least be his support whenever possible. And Steve was satisfied with that.

Bucky let a tired, tiny smile play on the corner of his lips. He patiently sat inside the bathtub, filled with hot water. Steve grabbed soap and a cloth, and took care of it all. He brushed Bucky’s skin with care and tenderness, cleaning every inch of him in the most relaxing way Steve could provide.

 

NYC NEWS: _Agent of the actor James Barnes, from the Winter Soldier franchise, is arrested downtown for assault. The police report states that the assault was committed by Alexander Pierce against Barnes, who was seen leaving the police station with his boyfriend, Steve Rogers, a few hours later._

 

“Will that be all?” Bucky asked, watching Sam as he put the papers that Bucky had just signed back into his briefcase.

“For now, this is everything I need to write up a petition to the court,” Sam replied.

Steve had called Sam first thing in the morning. He hadn’t had much time to rest that night, since the day had been very stressful and busy. He had kept thinking about what was going to happen, so he didn’t get much sleep. At least Bucky got some sleep.

Sam was one of Steve’s best friends and he didn’t think twice about taking Bucky’s case. It made Steve a little more relieved about everything because Sam had been his lawyer for years and he was very good at it.

“Do you think I have a chance of losing this lawsuit?” Bucky questioned.

“You’ll always have a chance of losing, but Pierce undoubtedly has more,” Sam explained, calmly, “This is a simple case of assault, but with many variables in your favor. Pierce may not go to prison, but he will pay, I can assure you that.”

“These are good news,” Steve said, looking at Bucky and waiting for the man to express a positive reaction.

“I’ll provide everything as soon as I get back to my office, so you will probably hear from me soon, Mr. Barnes,” Sam assured him, already standing from his seat on their living room couch. He offered his hand to Bucky, who shook it in return, “I expect to deliver good news for you.”

“Thanks again for everything, Sam.” Steve also stood up, grateful for his friend’s legal help on the matter.

“Nothing to thank me for, Steve. You know you’re family.” Sam smiled, never leaving his professional posture. He turned back to Bucky, “It was a pleasure to work with you, Mr. Barnes. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m heading off back to business. Would you walk me to the door, Steve?” Sam locked eyes with Steve for a brief moment, enough for him to understand his friend wanted to have a word with him privately.

“Sure,” Steve nodded, hands in his pockets. They walked the short path to the apartment’s entrance hall and, once out of Bucky’s earshot, Sam faced Steve, his confident professional personna long gone. “You know your contract with him is over, right?” Sam’s expression was serious, even though Steve caught a trace of unspoken concern for his friend on it. “Fury’s contract was with Pierce. If Barnes and Pierce broke contract, you and him...”

“I know.”

Sam patted Steve on the shoulder. “Look, bro. I’m here for whatever you need.”

 

A couple of hours later, loud thuds on their front door reverberated through the whole apartment. Steve opened it, only to be faced with an upset Rebecca, her luggage in both hands and her eyes full of worry. Behind her, Peggy and Angie stood with their own suitcases, their expressions also uneasy.

“Where’s my brother?” Rebecca almost yelled, her voice high pitched. “Where is he?” She stormed inside before Steve even had the chance to answer her.

“He’s upstairs in our room. Becca, are yo-” Steve started to say, but the girl left her luggage behind, climbing two steps at once before Steve could finish his sentence.

“Jesus Christ, Steve! We’ve been worried sick since we saw the news at the airport,” Peggy said, a concern expression on her face. “Becca was about to explode.”

“Not like we can blame her,” Angie commented, tiredly sitting on the couch’s arm before turning her attention to Steve. “What actually _happened_? Why didn’t you warn us something was up?”

Steve explained everything to them. How he didn’t know what Bucky had been enduring all this time. How Rebecca was also left in the dark for her own safety, and how Steve couldn’t possibly tell them they were leaving earlier because it was _Bucky’s_ problem, and Steve had no right to spread it without his consent.  

The three of them stayed in the living room, giving Bucky and Rebecca privacy to talk things through and sort it out. Even though Steve desperately wanted to know how things were going, it wasn’t his place to do so. Bucky and Rebecca had been each other’s only family since forever. They had their own little world, their own dynamic. Steve could only wait and hope for everything to go down right.

Steve didn’t know how much it took but, eventually, Rebecca was running down the stairs. Her face was in the reddest shade Steve had ever seen it, her eyes still wet with fresh tears. She had a new, and smaller, suitcase under one of her arms.

“Can I stay at your place for a while?” Becca asked the couple with a wobbly voice, her big eyes wet and flushed cheeks. She looked so much younger than she actually was. “I need time to think.”

“Of course you can, my dear.” Peggy stood up, embracing the girl fondly.  

“As long as you need,” Angie added, also going for the hug.  

Even though Steve was glad Rebecca had the ladies as her support system, he still didn’t know how Bucky reacted to the situation. He knew how Rebecca meant the world for the man so, as soon as they left the apartment, Steve climbed the steps to check on Bucky.

 

 **Thursday, January 7** ** th ** **, 2016**

 

“How she’s doing?” Steve asked Peggy over the phone. It had been five days since Rebecca found out about Bucky’s past and what he had to endure to be able to raise her. During this time, Bucky had been the quietest Steve had ever seen, his mind never really seemed to be in the moment. Steve understood Bucky’s reasons and tried his best to respect and support him in all the ways Steve was able to.

But it still didn’t seem like it was enough.

“She’s much better now,” Peggy reassured him on the other side of the line. “Becca is not mad at Bucky, you know. She just wasn’t prepared to discover all the things he had to do while they grew up. She even feels a little bit guilty, but Angie and I are working on it. She understands it’s not her fault, but she still knows she was used as a factor to keep him into that toxic contract. She wishes he didn’t have to go through everything he had to. We all do.”

“He knows you guys do,” Steve could feel her sympathy in Peggy’s voice. “He truly does. Thank you so much for taking care of her, for not leaving her alone right now.”

Peggy’s tone was soft, even a bit motherly protective. “She just needs time to think. Time to heal.”  

Bucky knew that, he confined to Steve that it was why he didn’t run after Rebecca that day. Bucky and Becca were too much alike, and he knew she needed her space.

The call ended shortly after that, right before Steve heard the jingling sound of keys being used.

Bucky arrived home from another encounter with Sam.

“How was the meeting?” Steve rushed the question as soon as Bucky entered the living room.

“The hearing was set for two weeks from now. It will be private and Wilson will control the information that will reach the public. He’ll speak for me until all of this is over.” Bucky sighed. He looked exhausted with the small bags under his eyes as proof his restless couple of nights, though his bruises were already fading away. “There’s one more thing I need to say. I’m moving back to my apartment.”

_What._

Steve felt as if his stomach had been punched by Bucky’s words. “Why?” he managed to say.  

Bucky got closer to Steve, turning his expression blank. “Our agreement is over, so, technically, I don’t have reasons to stay at your place. I talked to Wilson and he said it will be the best to let the media speculate about our breakup. I will skip the subject in future interviews, don’t worry about it. I won’t stain your public image.”

“I don’t- I don’t care about my image, Bucky, I care about you,” Steve interjected. “You don’t need a reason to stay here, you can just... stay. I-” Steve’s throat was getting tighter as he tried not to think of the unavoidable. That Bucky was leaving him. He knew it would end up like this, but he didn’t imagine it would be soon. “I like your company. This is _our_ house now.”

“Yeah, but I need to fix some things in my life, Steve, and Rebecca is still a bit unsteady with all of the truth.”

Steve was desperate to find reasons for Bucky to stay. _Anything_ to make him see he _should_ stay. That it would be better for both of them if he did. Steve ended the small space between them, standing right in front of Bucky. He looked him in the eye before placing his left hand on top of Bucky’s hip. He gently squeezed.

“I want you,” Steve whispered, his voice hoarse and cracking.

Bucky closed his eyes as if he was controlling himself or thinking of what to say. “I know,” he replied quietly, loud enough to break Steve’s heart. “But you said you were going to do whatever I needed you to, and I need you to leave me.”

Steve’s chest grew tighter. Bucky used the exact same words Natasha did when she made Steve promise he would let Bucky go if it ever come to that.

Steve couldn’t break that promise.

 

U.S MAIL: _Click here to understand what went down with actor James Barnes’s case of abusive professional relationships and learn how to identify and report similar situations._

 

A knock on Steve’s bedroom door made him wake up. He buried his face deeper into the pillow after the realizing that the bed was empty, something which he was still not used to. Bucky had been gone for weeks.  

He sent them in.

“Mr. Rogers, a delivery arrived for you this morning,” the new housekeeper said. “They said it was from James Barnes.”

Steve turned on bed quickly, his eyes darting open in a second when he spotted the housekeeper at the doorstep carrying a large bouquet of roses.

He stood up, reaching for it. Alone once again in the room, Steve noticed a small paper card hidden in between the flowers. He took it in between his fingers. There were cursive letters written on it.

 

_“Steve, you’re the rose that got too close to the thorn._

_By the way, thanks for the sex._

_P.S: I know you still haven’t seen what the watch I gave you on Christmas hides, punk. Look underneath it. It’s mine and it’s simple, but it’s true.”_

 

Steve went straight to his closet, where Bucky’s gift was. He opened the small black velvet box, revealing the watch. Steve didn’t give it much thought when he received it. If he was being honest, Steve was even a little disappointed, for it being such a generic present.

He took the silver object in his hands and, turning it upside down, Steve finally found what Bucky meant by hidden secret.

Bucky had three simple words engraved in the back of the watch. Three words that made Steve feel so dumb for not noticing it before. For not getting Bucky’s way of telling Steve his own feelings.

At the back of the silver watch, there was a statement. A promise.

 

_I’m virtually yours._

 

PEOPLE: _The split suits you!_

_James Barnes is seen at Starbucks rocking a new haircut and drinking a pink frappe with his younger sister._

_It’s the end of an era! After much media and fans speculation of a break up with Steve Rogers, James Barnes revealed in a recent interview on_ Stark with the Stars _talk-show_ _that the relationship had, indeed, come to an end._

_“I have no hard feelings towards Steve,” says Barnes, “He was a very important part of my life and I only recall and keep good memories. I hope the best for him in his personal and professional lives. I can only say what’s left between us is still very strong.”_

_Barnes chose not to specify the reasons for the split, but one thing we are still sure of: neither Barnes nor Rogers have deleted their Instagram photos together._

_According to sources close to the actor, whose new movie_ Winter Soldier _has just been released, Barnes’ legal team won the lawsuit against his ex-agent, Alexander Pierce, who was convicted of physical assault and professional abuse of power. Leaked files point out that one of Pierce’s forms of abuse was blackmail over custody of Barnes’ younger sister, who, because of the threats by Pierce, he kept in secret until recently._

 _After the verdict was reached in the case, Barnes’ younger sister Rebecca Barnes was revealed to the public. Barnes reports being very grateful for all that’s been happening in his life._  

_One week later after the movie premiere, the actor changes radically his look. His new short haircut has won, so far, many compliments. What does Steve Rogers think of that? We can’t wait to keep up with all those new chapters of James Barnes’ life!_

 

 **Sunday, February 26** ** th ** **, 2017**

 

“Welcome to the 89th annual Academy Awards ceremony!” Tony Stark voice reverberated through the majestic and gigantic halls. The majority of the Hollywood community was present, sporting their glamorous gowns and suits, expensive jewelry, and infamous hairstyles. There were also those who saw the event as an opportunity to display their most extravagant and attention-seeking outfit, using the red carpet as their chance to be seen.

Steve couldn’t possibly put into words all the mixed feelings that passed through him. It was his first Oscar nomination, and Steve still couldn’t wrap his mind around the fact the he wasn’t just among some of his idols, but also _competing_ with them as an equal. The recognition of his work and his hopes to take the little golden statuette home were making him want to scream and jump out of excitement.  

And Bucky was also there. Steve was very happy when he heard about Bucky’s nomination too, but he hadn’t seen the man in over a year. They hadn’t talked, or texted. All the updates Steve ever got about him was through the tabloids and their friends. He checked on Rebecca every now and then with the help of Peggy and Angie, but Steve never did ask her about him. He was keeping his promise of giving Bucky the space and time he asked of Steve.

He missed Bucky and Becca dearly. He missed his hugs and jokes. His kisses. His body’s warmth against Steve’s right before he fell asleep.

Steve readjusted himself on his seat, uneasy. He would be lying if Steve said he wasn’t bothered by thinking how would Bucky react when they saw each other. If he would be glad to see Steve again. If he missed him just as much as Steve did.

Or if he didn’t miss Steve at all.

Steve’s disturbed and torn thoughts were once again interrupted by Tony’s voice in the microphone, calling everyone’s attention back to the front stage. “This year, you’re about to have the greatest experience you ever had in this show, or, at least this is what I expect, otherwise I’ll never be invited again.” Tony made a dramatic pause to wait for people to laugh. “Many jokes are expected for the awards, considering I am your host and I’m sure everybody here is familiar with my intrusion in every artist’s private life. If you don’t know, well, I’m sure you’ll understand, mister in the fifth row, in seat E27, wearing those red boxers of Justin Bieber’s limited edition with Calvin Klein.” The room burst into laughter, “Yeah, I saw it.” Stark winked dramatically at the camera. “Tonight, we have Bruce Banner, to everyone’s surprise, once again in a psychological drama,” he rolled his eyes, playfully, “Stephen Strange competing for best director for the third time _in a row._ Greedy man, isn’t he? Also, we have two ex-lovers competing in the same category, so prepare yourselves for some major family feud.”

Steve felt the blood rushing to his cheeks, and the camera was right in front of his face, all eyes on him. Tony was his friend, but he had no filters, and Steve was forced to clap and laugh along with everyone else.

“Even Charles Xavier came from the rest home to acclaim the night!” Stark teased.

The night’s schedule went on, with category after category and its winners being revealed, with heartfelt speeches as a response for the honor. The musicians’ performances during the announcements’ breaks were spectacles of their own right. From time to time, Steve would catch a glimpse of Bucky on one of the big screens. He looked polished and elegant in a dark suit, and with his new style, the beard and the short hair, it was enough to make Steve’s throat grow tighter.

Steve wondered if Bucky was looking at the screen when he was being filmed, too.

The time of the great moment for Steve was approaching. After almost three hours of ceremony, Stark had called the presenters of the category of Best Actor.

“Here are the brilliant nominees for performance by an actor in a leading role,” the woman announced, “Adam Warlock, The Enclave; Benjamin Grimm, The Thing; Bruce Banner, The Skin I Live In,” a teaser of each performance was showing at the big screens after every announcement, “James Barnes, Winter Soldier,” Steve held his breath as he watched Bucky’s scenes, so brilliantly, on the screen. He knew his face was being filmed. “Steve Rogers, Canvas.”

Steve’s whole body was hot with excitement and anticipation. He feared winning and being watched by all the people in the audience, including Bucky, as he gave his speech. He also feared losing. Steve wanted to win, sure, but he was also secretly cheering for Bucky. He saw Bucky’s efforts and how majestic his acting skills were. That man deserved the statuette.

“And the Oscar goes to...” the woman pronounced the famous line, carefully opening the big, black envelope in her hands. She approached the microphone, taking the few last seconds of mystery before finally revealing, “James Barnes, Winter Soldier.”

The entire room burst into applause, and Steve watched Bucky’s close up filling in the entire screen, his genuine grin plastered in his face, the little freckles on the sides of his eyes revealing his happiness. He got up from his seat, adjusting his suit, and was met with hugs from every person around him.

While Bucky walked past the front row, Steve and the others beside him stood up to applause and show their contentment with the result. Steve was filled with pride and happiness, Bucky finally got the recognition he always deserved for his talent and hard work.

As Bucky got closer, Steve’s hands started sweating and his heart sped up. Bucky was about to pass Steve when he turned his head at Steve’s direction. It made Steve’s heart skip a beat. Bucky smiled, truly, at him, his eyes darting from Steve’s head to toe and stopping and Steve’s right wrist, where the silver watch he gave Steve was placed. And then he stopped walking.

Bucky locked eyes with Steve for a couple of seconds. None of them said a word or moved a limb. Steve was paralyzed, he didn’t know what Bucky was doing. He was supposed to finish the short walk and climb the stage. He should be getting his statuette. But there he was, frozen, unable to tear his eyes from Steve’s.

Bucky turned his body and shortened the distance between them, grabbing with one hand Steve’s waist and pulling him in. He cupped Steve’s face with the other affectionately. Bucky’s mouth met Steve’s lips halfway and they sealed them together.

For a couple of seconds, the whole room seemed to fade into darkness, disappearing and leaving Steve and Bucky alone in their own world.

The warmth, the texture of Bucky’s lips and the intoxicating smell of him poisoned Steve’s senses once again, driving him back to all the memories he tried so hard so forget, and never could. Steve missed Bucky so much. He missed him as part of his life.

Steve gripped at the man’s waist, his fingers caressing Bucky’s shape and pressing him closer. It was passionate and desperate like never before, as if that kiss was their first and their last.  

Bucky slowly broke the contact, resting his forehead against Steve’s. His eyes were closed, his hands pinning Steve’s hips in place. He breathed in and out through his mouth.

“I’m sorry I left you in the dark for so long. It took me a while to learn to live with all those changes, for me and Becca to work things out. I spent so much time that, at one point, I thought I lost you for good.” Bucky locked eyes with Steve and he could see the seriousness in his words. Fear and truth. “But I couldn’t let you go without telling what I feel, knowing someone else might have you the way I’ve always wanted. I mean, sure, our history is interlaced with Pierce, but you are the good coming from the bad. You were by my side through it all. Even in the first days when I was an asshole to you, you were kind.” Bucky laughed humorlessly, softly shaking his head at the memory, “I learned to love you, hell, I learned to love.” There was hope in his eyes, “I love you, baby. Can you love me again?”

Steve was shaking at the end of Bucky’s speech. And he wasn’t even at the stage yet. Steve felt tears threatening to run down his face. He cupped Bucky’s face in his hands. “I have never stopped.”

 

PEOPLE: _Watch the heart-melting moment when James Barnes declared himself to Steve Rogers during the global broadcast of the Academy Awards, moving their love back into the spotlight. A new era has been born!_

 

THE GLOBE: _After James Barnes won the Oscar of Best Actor in a Leading Role, his now boyfriend again, Steve Rogers, also won a statuette in the category of Best Picture for his new movie, Canvas._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We would like to thank all the people who came here. For a long time we did not think it would be possible to write a story in a non-native language, we thought about giving up for many reasons, including people who volunteered to help us and gave up with very cruel words. But we did finish it, and this is the story we have always wanted to read, and now we finally have it written. We just want to thank those who also took the time to read. I hope you enjoyed.


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